Correspondence
by Elivra26
Summary: The entire Pride and Prejudice story narrated through letters between the various characters. Please review!
1. I: Ramsgate

**Hey everyone! This is yet another sudden-brainwave-brainchild of mine, again with me working on this instead of studying, in true obsessed fan spirit. I do so enjoy writing letters, and letters were _such_ important aspects of Regency life, that I realised that all of P&P in letter format might actually be quite interesting.**

**Since I definitely will have other things to do(burying my face in a big fat textbook, for example), I will be updating this story erratically, so I apologise for the unnecessary delays in advance.**

**Hope this story will measure up to everyone's expectations from such a premise!**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Fitzwilliam Darcy, and consequently, Pemberley. Need I say any more?**_

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><p><strong>Correspondence<strong>

_**A compilation of letters outlining the events in Pride and Prejudice **_

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><p><strong>I. Ramsgate<strong>

Pemberley

Tuesday, April 23 1811

My dear Georgiana,

How do you fare? I hope the chill has passed, and you have been taking Mr. Stewart's tincture as often as he advised. It would not do to disregard his kindness and his wisdom.

I am happy to inform you that the decision has finally been made –you are to be removed to Ramsgate in two weeks. We have found a perfectly amenable establishment, a modest modern edifice within five minutes' walk to the sea. The view is splendid and the air heartening –I am sure you shall have a very enjoyable summer indeed. You may apply to Mrs. Younge for other pertinent details to satisfy your curiosity, as I know you very well _are_ curious.

I shall depart for London within a week to accompany you to your new lodgings at Ramsgate, for I have little to detain me here. Bertram begged me to inform you that the mare Aleppa has produced a fine, robust colt and would like to know any preferences you might have in naming him. That would be the majority of all the news you might expect from this mundane quarter.

Do not disregard your hours of practise at the pianoforte; I recognise great talent when I chance upon it, and you are blessed indeed with great talent, my dear. Convey my regards to the Havershams, I am very grateful for their kindness in offering you such unquestioning companionship. I shall write to inform you when the day of my departure is fixed upon.

I remain, ever your loving brother,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

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><p>Mossway<p>

Tuesday, June 11 1811

Dear Brother,

The sun is shining with vigorous exuberance, the saline air is invigorating, the sounds of the untiring sea invite me outside, and yet I find myself thinking about my dear brother in dreary, boring London, and wishing he were here.

I am doing exceedingly well, brother, and I must reiterate my thanks –yet again- for happening upon this splendid idea. Ramsgate is as lovely, and as interesting as ever. I take several long walks in the sun everyday, I am sure you would not recognise me when you see me next –I have turned quite brown! I am sure it is very unladylike to sport such an obvious proof of outdoor pursuits, but the air does good to me, and it fairly drives me mad if I have to stay indoors when the beauty outside beckons me incessantly.

The new piano master is accomplished, to say the least, and he has already introduced me to several new pieces which I practise diligently, in the hope of gratifying you when you hear me play next –it would not do for me to disappoint you, my dear brother, when you encourage me so wholeheartedly. However, I must admit I enjoy walking more than the pianoforte; but I am consigned to the fact that while you may watch me march around for about a minute with equanimity, listening to me play will offer you many more minutes of respite, entertainment, and –I hope- pride.

There is little else to write you about, for I am sure local gossip and girlish pursuits may serve to only tire you. I must, however, admit to a little failing on my part, which I hope you will find it in yourself to forgive me. I have recently acquired yet another bonnet –and although you may mock me for being an utter spendthrift, I shall have to inform you that this one is completely new fashion, and all fashionable ladies sport it. I shall leave it unto you to decide whether you wish to see your beloved sister in unfashionable garb, or humour her little weakness when it comes to pretty bonnets.

I now have nothing more to write, and am already feeling rather uncomfortable at staying inside for so long. I beg you to pass on the letter enclosed to Julia Haversham –I have very foolishly forgotten her address. I hope you shall find it convenient enough to visit Ramsgate one of these days, so I can take you to every place I have discovered and cherished on my tedious walks. Hoping fervently for a favourable answer, I am, your most beloved

Georgiana Darcy

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><p>The Hanging Horseman<p>

Ramsgate

Friday, June 14 1811

Miss Darcy,

I hope you will not think it too forward or ungentlemanly of me to write you in such a manner. I can only redeem myself by uttering the truth of the matter –I did not lie when I said to you that our meeting affected me most deeply. Indeed, it has been many years since I last saw you, and when I think about the little girl I accosted in the library in Pemberley at midnight, blatantly disobeying her brother's orders to retire to bed, I can hardly compare her to the beautiful, noble lady that welcomed me in Mrs. Younge's parlour this morning.

I do not wish to frighten you with my frank admissions, Miss Darcy, and thus I shall come to the object of this impertinent letter instantly –you mentioned to me your fondness for taking a stroll through the breezy lanes of Ramsgate. Having visited this quaint town in the past, I happen to have some knowledge of the local areas of natural beauty and fineness which I am sure will appeal to your good taste and natural appreciation. Would it be an impertinence to ask your permission in coming to Mossway to call on you and from there escort you to these areas on the morrow? You may be chaperoned, of course, it is only right and expected of. Do send me word of your permission –I shall not disturb you if you wish so otherwise. Awaiting your reply with much eagerness, I am, your very smitten,

George Wickham

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><p>George-<p>

My brother has arrived unexpectedly. He does not suspect, but we must meet and alter the plans. Call for me at half-past nine tonight. My brother shall not be in the vicinity.

Georgiana Darcy

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><p>Henry,<p>

That scoundrel Wickham has been at it again. I cannot say more in writing, but expect myself and Georgiana at –Square tonight. We must think of something to do to him –I'd rather kill the bastard, but I need your good sense in the matter. Do not talk to Georgiana about this, I'd rather you didn't.

Darcy

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><p><strong>Author's Note: I'm sure Georgiana's last little note requires some explaining. In my opinion, Georgiana wrote this to lure Wickham over so that Darcy could meet with him. He needed the luring because Mrs. Younge would definitely have notified him of Darcy's arrival, and the man was cunning enough to stay away from Darcy -maybe even by running away from Ramsgate. Also, the note would have been Darcy's idea, because I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have believed Wickham an utter cad yet. Pretty twisted, I guess, but that's the way I see it!<strong>

**Reviews, people! Go on, throw them my way, and I shall be pleased and mighty grateful!**


	2. II: Netherfield

**Yay! Next set of letters are finally here! Thank you for the helpful and encouraging comments and all the Favourites and the Alerts... I'm glad y'all liked it! And thank you The Lady Grace for the heads up, it's little idiotic mistakes like that that totally put me off. **

****All of these are set before the Netherfield Ball. In fact, the first letter here just about starts with the actual beginning of the original. Also, we have here again, several specimens of letters within the Darcy clan -there's just so much in that part of the story that we're missing! I've also included Darcy's famous letter to Georgiana, when Caroline Bingley fawns over him. Tell me what you think about it -a Favourite or an Alert would please me immensely, but a review would just make my day!****

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><p><strong>II. Netherfield<strong>

Grosvenor Square

Friday, September 27 1811

My dear Darcy,

I perfectly understand that you should want to stay with your sister after her recent illness, but with all due respect, it has been more than a month since Georgiana was struck down with her fever. I understand that she is recuperating, and I am very much glad for the news, but I fail to understand how you could be of any use to her by staying at Pemberley. She has her maids, and I'm sure Mrs. Reynolds will do a far more effective job of caring for her than you could. I, however, am in terrible need of your services, and you wouldn't turn down a friend in need so carelessly, would you? Netherfield Hall is splendid, the grounds are extensive, and the country is quite picturesque, almost to rival that of Kent. I am certain you would enjoy your visit here, and as far as I can see it, you require some sort of distraction after the harrowing incident you experienced last August. Do come, my dear fellow, the change shall do you wonders, I'm sure. I shall try my best not to fall in love and to keep Caroline in rein. Do consider the matter seriously before rejecting it outright.

Awaiting your reply impatiently, your devoted friend,

Charles Bingley.

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><p>Longbourn<p>

Tuesday, October 8 1811

My dear Aunt,

Even as I write, I can hear Mamma's frenzied excitement as she writes to her 'dear sister Gardiner'. I understand that you would rather receive a more coherent, respectable account of the matter, and so I write my own 'dear Aunt Gardiner' for a more sensible manner in which to celebrate the latest news. Apparently, our select neighbourhood has been graced with a worthy new addition, a Mr. Bingley from an unspecified region in the north of our country, who has acquired Netherfield Hall for his party this season. I know little of him save from Mamma's incessant gossiping; I am only aware that he is the wealthy son of a tradesman –four or five thousand a year, as Mamma put it bluntly- and is unmarried. While this little portion of knowledge might satisfy my dear mother, I should be very glad to know more about this illusive personage. Perhaps my dear Aunt or Uncle might know something of this rich, unattached man? But worry not if you do not have any such knowledge, dear Aunt, for I would understand perfectly –London, after all, is too large for one to know _everyone_, whatever Mamma might say otherwise.

My father, I am glad to say, kept his good sense about him by not bowing instantly to Mamma's urgent need of being introduced to the man. In fact, he _did_ go and offer Mr. Bingley(who rests alone at Netherfield for the moment) his salutations- only yesterday morning, and we only discovered his sudden act of generosity towards his wife and daughters last night. Needless to say, the surprise brought Mamma down into her usual attack of excitement, for which I am inclined to believe that perhaps my father should have divulged the news in a more gentle manner.

As it is, we are all set to get acquainted to Mr. Bingley at the assemblies exactly a fortnight today; perhaps sooner, if he is as amiable as he is reputed to be, and returns my father's kindness by calling on us before the ball. Mamma is already determined to invite him to dinner on the occasion that he _does_ call, and I have to admit I am not wholly abhorrent to the idea, for this supposedly amiable young man has quite piqued my curiosity.

Oh!- here I am, chattering away incessantly about our trivial news without deigning to inquire after my worthy correspondent and her family- do forgive me, dear Aunt! I hope this letter finds you all in good health; Mamma was wondering only the other day how her dear brother Gardiner would have adored the game on the lands this season- indeed, we are all very well aware of Uncle's penchant for a good pheasant. Perhaps you will pass word to him and make him reconsider about visiting his expectant nieces Bennet after all? How is dear little Jane? –our Jane here has begged me to inform you that she has finished the piece of embroidery that she promised her little namesake; I also recall Kitty musing aloud about several new games she has recently come to know of that would no doubt occupy her little cousins admirably. Myself and my sisters all(excepting Mary, of course) jointly thank you for the catalogues –Lydia has already declared she needs more ribbons, notwithstanding the fact that she already has enough to open a shop of her own.

Do reply as soon as is possible while contending with my energetic cousins –I am especially eager to know for certain when we may see each other next. My love and regards to all there at the Gardiner household, and an added kiss to the cheek to each of my cousins.

Yours lovingly,

Elizabeth Bennet

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><p>-Square<p>

Tuesday November 12 1811

Dear Darcy,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and in amiable temperament –as amiable as _you_ could be, of course. True to my word, I am now at your London residence, having arrived here on the ninth. Georgiana, I must say, is doing quite splendidly considering her condition not three months past. It is true that she is of a more serious and thoughtful mien than before, but you could hardly expect her to revert to her usual sensibilities after that rascal's mischief. True to her Darcy blood, she is resolutely composed, and hardly gives in to whatever she might be feeling at the moment; indeed, I believe her fairly along the way to recuperation. Other than a marked uneasiness for social visits(_that _much has not changed) and a remarkable improvement on the pianoforte –she plays like a master at present- she seems to be quite complacent. She has, however, confided in me that she is still troubled over one issue atleast –that being her obvious esteem for you and how she fears she has disappointed you most horribly. I have done my best to assuage her misinformed doubts, but frankly, my dear fellow, I think it would be best if you wrote her yourself to negative her fears. Do not address the issue outright –I am of the opinion that she would not take lightly my breach of her trust by confiding in you –however, try and placate the no doubt confusing storm of doubts and worries that currently reign in her poor little head.

There is little else worth mentioning from this quarter –indeed, I do not think you would even bother to read any further if I did write any more, seeing that your main concern is no doubt your sister. As such, I shall sign off this instant. I shall remain at –Square for five days more before returning home.

Yours, &c,

Henry Fitzwilliam

P.S.: I wonder if our usual plan to spend Easter at Rosings Park is still valid? Do let me know at the earliest; I shall make other arrangements if we are not to go.

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><p>Netherfield Hall<p>

Thursday November 14 1811

My dear Georgiana,

How do you fare? Cousin Henry writes that you are doing much better since the time I saw you last, but I am sure you would understand, my dear, if I would rather have this confirmation from your own hand. Miss Bingley begs me to assure you that she longs for your presence.

I am rather of the opinion that you would like Netherfield Park. The grounds are extensive, the climate pleasing and the hall well-situated and suitably furnished. It is true there are not as many books here as at Pemberley, however, the wonderful countryside serves to act as a much more delightful distraction. You have often assured me of your fondness for long walks in the grounds at Pemberley, and I am sure you would not be disappointed if you should ever chuse to visit Hertfordshire in the near future. In fact, I have already made an acquaintance with a certain young lady, a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who seems to have a strong affinity to long rambles in the countryside –stronger indeed than you could ever imagine to possess; I am sure the two of you would get along together marvellously. At the present moment, Miss Bennet is in fact residing at Netherfield Hall with her eldest sister, Miss Jane Bennet, who was come over by a violent cold after being caught in a dreadful rainstorm as she made her way hither for lunch with Miss Bingley. Other than the Bennets, I have also, through Bingley, made acquaintances with several other personages of the neighbourhood, including a peer, a Sir William Lucas, who resides at Lucas Lodge. There are assemblies held every often at Meryton, the nearest town, and these fall under the crux of social events in this part of the country.

Knowing me as you do, I am sure you will comprehend perfectly when I say I have little to do with these activities. The ladies, although put down by the monotony, subsist with these activities; Bingley, with his usual good humour ingratiates himself everywhere with his sisters. I only accompany my friend for propriety's sake, as it would not do for Bingley alone to call upon the families when his sisters are disinclined to quit Netherfield Hall. The library, as perhaps I have mentioned above, is sadly inadequate –the few copies there are either too obscure and tiring, or too common that I have already perused them at my leisure at Pemberley or in London. This leaves time for naught else but a nice ramble in the park. I had the convenient opportunity to bring with me Pegasus, for Hertfordshire offers a perfect countryside –for it is far easier for a horse here than in the rolling expanses of Derbyshire –to gallop about in, and I am most heartily grateful to you, my dear, for convincing me to take my steed with me on my journey. I have to admit, as is always the matter –that you were perfectly right; Aunt Catherine would be proud, you have the true Darcy and Fitzwilliam foresight within you. As a matter of fact, I have a question to ask of you. Cousin Henry would like to know if our trip to Rosings at Easter is still decided. I am aware that you do not wish to be a part of the party this year, and I have no intention to dissuade you from your decision. I merely ask for your permission for my leave. If you so wish, my dear Georgiana, I shall not go, and I will stay with you in London, or even Pemberley –whatever your heart desires, my little one. You need not hasten your answer, there is but plenty of time before the trip is confirmed.

As you may now imagine, there is little else to write you about at the moment. How goes your practise at the pianoforte? Cousin Henry tells me you have improved remarkably, and I value his taste and opinion enough to believe him totally. Indeed, Georgiana, you already played stupendously well before your journey to Ramsgate, and after your return, I have heard enough to sometimes wonder at my felicity at being blessed with such a talented sister. If Henry says you have improved further, I can only imagine the finesse and mastery with which you undoubtedly play at the moment. I can but hardly wait for the moment when you shall play for me once more so I may listen and be entertained with –as you wished in one of your letters last June- pride. I remain, ever your loving brother,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

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><p>-Square<p>

Sunday, November 17 1811

Darcy-

You absolute uncomprehending fool! Why on earth did you mention Ramsgate? I merely said she was complacent, and getting more adept at masking her feelings –I never said she stopped feeling them! Good Lord!- all our efforts at consoling her would have come to naught, if not for her own good sense. She is much better now –therefore I see no reason for you to come rushing back; as a matter of fact, I'd rather you didn't. She must face her feelings on her own at the moment, and it would be better not to impugn her honest need for solitude. I shall remain here, however, and have extended my stay by a further week.

Do not aggrieve yourself too much by my blunt words, my dear fellow; on my word, she is most truly past the danger now. Even as I write this missive, she writes you from her chambers with defiant good cheer. I shall keep you informed about her well-being as often as you like. Do not hesitate from writing to her often after this debacle –she awaits your letters with much impatience each day. Write me if you have any more need of my services –I may be able to extend my stay even further, if you so wish.

My regards to Bingley and his sisters.

Yours, &c,

Henry Fitzwilliam

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><p>-Square<p>

Sunday, November 17 1811

My dearest brother,

I shall not lie to you –your letter found me not in the best spirits, and it did but little at first to better my mood. I am certain Cousin Henry has written you about all –I suppose I should not be surprised, the two of you serve each other most splendidly. Indeed, I do not chasten you, my dear Fitzwilliam, and thus you may heave a sigh of relief. I only write to tell you that your letter _did_ help, and while the day is yet to come when you shall see me at the instrument with pride, I am already, very, very much proud of you, my dearest, most loving brother. If I did cry, they were tears of happiness, for which sister would not like to read words of such praise for herself in her brother's hand? I feel honoured, blessed, and –as I mentioned before- proud.

Do not worry for me, brother, I shall recover. The pianoforte has given new meaning to my life, and I am perfectly content at the moment. There is no need for you to rush over to London in all haste to wipe my tears, for they have dried long ago. Indeed, Mrs. Annesley and I are having a marvellous time, and you might as well remain in Hertfordshire and ride about the countryside to your heart's content. Consequently, you have my full and hearty permission to visit Aunt Catherine at Easter as usual. I am not sure Aunt Catherine will be too pleased if none of us visit her this year –for if you do not go, then I am sure Henry certainly will not(and who would blame him?)- and Anne will enjoy the diversion, poor thing.

I must end, I see that I have bordered on impertinence in this letter, and my hand shakes –both a result, no doubt, of Henry's administration of wine to ease my temper. There, another indiscretion! –forgive me, dear brother, for this little lapse in conduct. I am sure you will understand that it was all well-meant, and written with the best intentions.

I remain, ever your loving, devoted, and dearest sister,

Your Georgiana

P.S.: The wine was just a sip –do not berate poor Cousin Henry, he hardly knows what to do when a tearful young lady is in his presence. As a matter of fact, do you?


	3. III: A Rainy Day

**'Kay, here's instalment three! Thanks for the lovely reviews, like I said, they just totally made my day! And I'm not sure who NW is(anonymous reviewer), but I'd like to thank them for pointing out the stupidest mistake an author could make. My story now has a properly-spelt title, thank goodness.**

**The following two letters(yes, just two) were added on the spur of the moment. The idea of writing two letters from two characters so completely different amused me, and so I just _had_ to write them. The second letter, I have to admit, sounds rather silly, but I don't really have the mood to give the second writer even a chance of appearing intelligent(prejudiced me, but there it is). Both letters are written on the same day, which is about three days before the Netherfield Ball. The weather was inspired and confirmed by this phrase from the book:**

**"_...from the day of the invitation, to the day of the ball, there was such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton..._"**

**I hope the letters live up to your expectations!**

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><p><strong>III. A Rainy Day<strong>

Longbourn

Saturday, November 23 1811

My dearest Aunt,

So much has happened since I wrote you last! Had you been personally present here, you would have known the rumours much sooner –as it is, it falls unto my lot to enlighten you. For the happier news first –our dear Jane is finally, undoubtedly on the cusp of being engaged! Isn't it wonderful! –and to Mr. Bingley, of all people. I cannot imagine my mother in a more blissful state of mind.

Although it is not official –dear Jane has assured me of this fact most firmly- all of Meryton knows it is definitely bound to happen –all a matter of time, as my Aunt Phillips insisted the other day. You have always known me as being wary of popular rumours and conjectures, always attempting to attain a certain amount of unprejudiced judgement before I condescend to acknowledge the belief; thus you may very well conjecture as to _how_ unassailable and solidly existent the proofs may be to satisfy my rigorous inquisition. Mr. Bingley is as amiable as he was said to be and more. He is a fine, charming, jolly young man –always seeking to please and be pleased, and he is forever kind and civil to every person possible. Oh –no, he is not _always_ perfectly civil, for when Jane is present in the same room as he, all notions of civility and etiquette seem to fly out the window as he attaches himself to my sister with constant joy and rapture. Indeed, _everyone_ here, save Jane, is aware of his marked inclination toward my sister. Jane herself is rather strangely choosing to be calm and detached about the matter, seemingly unsatisfied with the proofs laid before her very eyes. She insists that I may be mistaken, but simultaneously agrees quite whole-heartedly that he is a wonderful, warm caring person –as if that does not tell one enough! Very well, her eyes will be opened the day Mr. Bingley kneels before her, and I am very certain that the day is not far.

And now, on to the less pleasant news. We now have a guest at Longbourn, a Mr. William Collins, rector of the parsonage of an illustrious estate in Kent, Rosings Park wherein reside a Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter Anne. Mr. Collins is our cousin –the evil, estranged cousin who is to inherit Longbourn after Papa's passing; in short, the very man who may throw us into the hedgerows if he so chooses. You may very well imagine Mama's consternation at the foretelling of his visit, however, it is nothing compared to the consternation I experience at the moment as he resides as a guest under our roof. It seems to be Mr. Collins' manifest intent to find himself a wife –and not _any_ wife, but one that would originate from the, in his words, worthy halls of Longbourn. Oh! aunt –you may imagine my situation when it was perfectly apparent to me that I was the object of his attentions. Mama does nothing to dissuade him, in fact, it seems to me she has already given him her approval. Mr. Collins has already availed himself to engage me for the first two dances at the upcoming ball at Netherfield, and honestly, I am not certain whether I should laugh for the folly of it all or deplore at my awkward circumstances. I see I have mentioned nothing of the man's character himself, and thus I shall do so for you to be perfectly cognisant of the situation at the moment.

I will not be exaggerating, my dear aunt, when I say that Mr. Collins is the most pompous man with the least good sense in his head, I have ever happened to meet. He boasts no good taste nor general cleverness, he tries unduly hard to be the utmost civil when he borders on abject imprudence with his statements. If he were not harbouring such unwelcome inclinations towards me, I should have found the whole of his character much entertaining –already Papa doats on him and his various idiosyncrasies. He speaks every word as if he reads from a particularly onerous book of Fordyce's sermons, in fact, he admitted as much the other night over the dinner table –he apparently practises and ponders over every word he must speak, with such dutiful calculation as must be laughable. He speaks of his benefactress, the Lady de Bourgh with prodigious enthusiasm and idiotic superiority. As a matter of fact, when he speaks of Lady Catherine(which is almost always), he does so with such pertinacious pride, such unplaced ego that I am left most thoroughly irked every time. And by all means, from what I have heard of the Lady from her snivelling rector, I place the lady in no higher regard than I do her nephew –but we shall come to that presently. Mr. Collins is to me odious enough so that I can fill pages and pages with my dislike for him and dismay at his intentions. Indeed, from such a description, I am sure you do not wonder at my determined aversion to this man. I can only truthfully say that I am waiting impatiently for the culmination of this farce –his proposal; not the way Jane might dream about Mr. Bingley, but only to put a firm end with definite closure to this state of affairs. Mama might think it quite satisfactory for a girl of my situation and my _talents_, but I have to admit I have seen enough of you and my uncle, and more recently, Jane and Bingley, to wish for more out of the felicity of acquiring a husband.

And now for the final topic I am most anxious to introduce to you. You are, I am sure aware of the posting of the –shire regiment in Meryton for I am sure Mama and my youngest sisters have talked of nothing else since they first found out. The officers are to be found in such abundance as to satisfy every creature wearing a frock in the county –forgive me, I sound rather boorish; I suppose it is not true, in any case, for Mary would rather hide in her room with a book of sermons, as she _is_ doing at the present moment. There are, of course, the usual rakes and the young coxcombs; there are, however, also some gentlemen quite worthy of an acquaintance. I have had the pleasure to meet one such man in the past week, a Lieutenant Wickham, a very handsome man with excessively pleasing manners, whose greatest merit, according to me, is that he can take Lydia's wild behaviour with admirable equanimity and good stride. Mr. Wickham, in fact, might be able to claim an acquaintance with you, for he was raised on an estate, Pemberley, in Derbyshire, which I understand is not far from Lambton –the town of your childhood which I have heard you speak of on numerous occasions. Mr. Wickham was the only son of the steward of that estate, and being a favourite with the master of Pemberley, old Mr. Darcy(who has since passed away), he was blessed with many facilities through his childhood, culminating with his studies in Cambridge. I should at this point mention to you that I am acquainted with the current Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire, and believe me, aunt, I have never met a more reserved, prideful man. His very posture reeks of hauteur and his speech of disdain and contempt –everyone here is most astonished that a man like him is a very close friend to a man as affable and amiable as Mr. Bingley. Indeed, it is through Mr. Bingley that I have met him; had Bingley not been violently in love with Jane and been frequently in our presence, I do not think I would know Mr. Darcy –the little that I _do_ know- as I do now. He makes no attempt to socialise, to converse, or just be plain friendly, instead choosing to restrict himself to his own party, and is always merely civil. Again, you may wonder at my dislike for this man as well, but I am sure you would understand, dear aunt, if I told you that this man offended your dear niece with a most callous remark, though meant to be unheard by herself, and has continued to offend her since with his pride. I shall say no more; I shall describe the rest to you in perfect detail when we may meet next. I only mentioned the latter two gentlemen in the hope that you may atleast know more of them by your Derbyshire connection. Depend on it there is more to the story than I have penned down, for the former has been, in my fervent opinion, most cruelly mistreated by the latter. There! –that should be enough to rouse your interest, and I hope that you shall be curious enough to come visit us soon, if only to satisfy that curiosity. Upon my word, I _have_ been rambling on, you must forgive me, dear aunt. Mary is already livid that I am using such copious amounts of her paper, but in view of present circumstances –the ennui that comes with a rainy day, and the exciting news that accumulates between a gap in correspondence- I'm sure you do excuse my sudden propensity for letter writing.

Do write back if you are able, I know you shall be here in four weeks' time, but you must know by now that a letter from you is always welcome! All my love to my uncle and my dear little cousins, and to you, of course, dearest aunt!

I remain, your loving niece,

Elizabeth Bennet

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><p>Netherfield Hall<p>

Saturday, November 23, 1811

My dearest Adele,

My! –it has been a while since I corresponded, and at the present moment I feel quite lost –marooned, as it were- amidst a sea of mediocrity and insipidity. You know very well my strictures and laments concerning my present situation, and I'm afraid I have not had any sort of happy epiphany since. The country is invariably dull, filled with ennui and unfashionable ignoramuses. Everyday as I wake up, I find myself wondering what on earth possessed Charles to lease this place in such a backwater part of England. I only hope, and I'm quite sure, that you will knock some sense to him the instant we return to London. Although this is all I have to say concerning my brother, I am sure you are earnestly hoping for more, and as your dearest friend, I shall oblige. Charles is doing splendidly –I have to say, the country satisfies him for the moment, and for his sake, I am trying my utmost to keep my disappointments to myself. Do not worry for his affections- in such a sad little village like this, you could not imagine he would find someone worthy _here_ –why, the idea is laughable! Indeed, he thinks about you often, and was recounting to me only the other day a dance which he shared with you in London last season, and with no little affection, I assure you. Truly, Adele, you are quite safe, and when we return, you may recommence your pretty courting immediately –but, there! I shall not tease you, ma chère, and so you may deem yourself safe. Mr. Darcy coaches him daily about the cares and duties of the master of an estate –I need not say how splendidly he instructs and Charles absorbs. Indeed, I have seen too many young gentlemen with vast estates of their own, but not a clue about the management of things; it is therefore no surprise, and I'm sure you'll agree, that Pemberley is one of the most beautiful estates I have set my eyes upon. Ah –Mr. Darcy! –I shall say no more, Adele, for fear of filling entire pages with my silly romantic thoughts. The one clear advantage that I have observed since our removing to Hertfordshire is the increased proximity between myself and Mr. Darcy. As a matter of fact, at times, it feels like the two of us are the only sane people in the entire room! –and thus we shall have to amuse ourselves together. He dances with no one but me and Louisa, he says it is because he knows no one outside our party, and to be sure, why _would_ he want to know anyone here? Upon my word, if Mr. Darcy weren't here, I should certainly have gone mad with boredom and helplessness.

There! I am expatiating again, do forgive me, mon amie. Your news about Miss Gunther did not surprise me a jot; I'm sure we all knew how indecently forward she was acting with Mr. Yates –and all for money. Goodness! –I am thankful we did not socialise with her too often, and although she was reputed to be pretty stilish, in my opinion her clothes were only mediocre, I assure you. In fact, I hardly use the fan she presented to me, for fans of that kind seem to be quite out of fashion now –such ridiculously pale colours as to be monotonous and mundane! Oh! –can you imagine her countenance at the announcement of Mr. Yates' engagement? I suppose one must feel sorry for her, if she hadn't been so blatantly mercenary. Well, I am not one to dwell on unpleasantness, however much deserving it seems to be. I sincerely hope Cynthia Gunther's little retreat in the Continent will find her a nice beau –perhaps even an acceptable marriage.

I was also very intrigued by your description of Miss Haversham's coming out –of course, St. James' Court is only one half, coming out at Almack's is quite the popular notion to be a fitting second half of a coming-out, I do agree. However, I am sure you are very well aware of my disapproval of Almack's; indeed, I should not place so much importance on a mere assembly room –all one does there is dance, and I have never really had an inclination towards balls and dancing and such. To be sure, I am of the opinion that it is a most pathetic form of social conduct; one would be at a more respectable and civilised advantage with a proper intellectual conversation instead of prancing about to noise like the savages of the wilds. You must listen to Mr. Darcy on this particular subject, he is so elegantly eloquent, so masterfully precise that you could not disagree with him. You are aware of his distaste, nay, dislike for Almack's and I perfectly comprehend him and concur with him –dancing is a superior waste of time, indeed!

Well! –I have written quite a long letter, have I not? Of course, it is not as if I can never write letters of sizeable length –I am a prodigious letter-writer, much unlike Charles or Louisa, but very much like Mr. Darcy. There is little else that offers as much pleasure as the smell of wet ink and clean sheets of paper, I must say. Tout de même, I must sign off, for I must arrange for the place settings –oh! –I see I have not mentioned it, Charles has very foolishly acquiesced to host a ball this next Tuesday here at Netherfield Hall for the entire neighbourhood, as well as the regiments of the –shire militia, who are at present, camped in Meryton for the winter. What can I say, Adele? The poor man is practically helpless against the onslaught of these impulsive, impolite women! You cannot guess the number of times I have thought of my dearest friend Adele and her lovely mother Lady Grantley, and how together we would show these uncultured barbarians a thing or two about _society_. Well, well, I must depart, for the servants here seem not to know a thing when it comes to hosting a fashionable soiree, and I must supervise them every single minute. My kindest regards to Lady Grantley and your sister. I am hoping we shall return to Town for the holidays and in turn hoping to see you at Grantley House forthwith! Pray for our speedy return, my dear –for a chance to meet Charles ere long!

Your dearest friend,

Caroline Bingley

* * *

><p><strong>AN: "Adele Grantley", to whom Caroline writes her letter, is actually another jab at Caroline Bingley's total evilness. Can you guess what inspired the addressee's name?(Just the last name -first name was purely my invention)**

**Also, I have included some French words/phrases in Caroline's letter, since it seemed very fashionable for ladies of the Regency Era to casually throw in a couple of French phrases in conversation. I wasn't sure which ones were more frequently used, however, so I've just interspersed the letter with a couple of generic terms.**


	4. IV: A Cold Winter

**Woah, okay, small chapter, but do forgive me, this period in the P&P universe doesn't have much flesh to work on... but I promise more juiciness ahead, as you guys probably can very well imagine!**

**Thanks bunches for the reviews and the likes and so forth, they really do a good job of pushing me to write more. In the words immortalized by none other than Miss Ke$ha, your love is my drug! *bows***

* * *

><p><strong>IV. A Cold Winter<strong>

Longbourn

Friday, November 29 1811

Dear Caroline,

I must admit that your recent letter took me by surprise, for I had no idea that Netherfield Hall should be quit and left bereft of occupation so soon in the season. I place no blame upon you for your abrupt departure, for it is perfectly natural for such ladies as yourself and Mrs. Hurst to long for London society; Meryton, I suppose, does not offer as many diversions as one of the London _ton_ could expect. All of us here at Longbourn and Meryton will be pining for the loss of such delightful company as the Netherfield party. I must also admit that I am honoured by your trust in me to confide the sincere private wishes of a beloved sister; believe me, I convey my most heartfelt good wishes to your brother and hope that he may succeed in any endeavour he sets his heart upon. As to your humble request, I give you my word to write you as often as possible. I hope I am not mistaken in thinking I have mentioned to you my Uncle Gardiner who resides in London –there is a very good chance that this winter I shall be visiting his family. Perhaps we could rekindle our acquaintance at that point? Do write as frequently as busy London will allow you. My best wishes to the Hursts, your brother, and Mr. Darcy, should you chance upon him once again.

I remain, your sincere friend,

Jane Bennet

* * *

><p>Gracechurch Street<p>

Thursday, January 2 1812

Dearest Lizzy,

I do hope this letter finds you in good health, for you looked rather pale and wan when I last saw you as I departed from Longbourn. London is just as cold as the rest of the country, I should imagine. It does not snow at the moment, but there is frost on the surfaces and a chill in the air, I am much glad for the unreserved use of the coal fires in our uncle's home. The weather disinclines us to venture forth the house for any reason whatsoever, and thus I am well occupied in keeping my little cousins happily diverted. As such, I have not paid any visits yet, but I might do so in a day or two, when I shall be perfectly recovered from the weary journey. I have written to Caroline Bingley to inform her of my arrival in Town, and I intend to call on her whenever she will deem it convenient. Before you happen upon any mischievous ideas, my dear Lizzy, I must inform you that I only do this to maintain an acquaintance –my tepid little history with her brother does not factor in my actions whatsoever.

Do convey my sincere apologies to Mr. Collins on not being able to attend his wedding –I have already mentioned much of the same to Charlotte, and she has been perfectly understanding. Spend all the time as is possible with her, my dear, for soon Lucas Lodge shall no longer remain her home, and I am certain you would feel the loss of such a devoted friend most acutely. There is little left to write about, but do write back to me soon, dearest Lizzy, for I miss your stimulating company already!

Your loving sister,

Jane

* * *

><p>Grosvenor Square<p>

Sunday, January 12 1812

Mr. D,

Surely you will forgive me for writing you directly in such an improper manner, but circumstances necessitated this missive. J.B. is in London. She wrote me twice, but my silence in turn seemed not to have conveyed anything to her, and she dared call on us yesterday –such boldness! It was fortunate my brother was away, and L. and I managed to herd her out before long. I write to ask your opinion and assistance over this matter –what on earth are we to do? Do reply at the speediest juncture.

C.B.

* * *

><p>-Square<p>

Monday, January 13 1812

Madam,

Your consideration for your brother's welfare excuses your impulsiveness, but I must make this clear –I did only what my conscience deemed right to do by my friend, and I have nothing further to do with this matter. Do as would seem right to you, my opinion is not required in the slightest. In the future, be in mind, I shall not take these indiscretions lightly.

F. Darcy

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Just wanted to say... Ha! Ha! Stupid Caroline! *giggles***


	5. V: Kent

**Yay! Okay, we _finally_ have some juicy stuff coming up -this whole chapter is devoted to Kent, but unfortunately, I could in no way incorporate the first proposal into _any_ letter, and the only letter in that case was already present in full in the original P&P. Anyway, the following letters were pretty much fun to write... I hope they're just as fun to read, as well!**

**Thank you all for all the lovely reviews, the Alert/Favourite selections... I've been a little swamped, so I haven't been able to reply to every reviewer, I think, so consider this a huge, personal thank you to each of my reviewers!**

* * *

><p><strong>V. Kent<strong>

Hunsford

Monday, February 3 1812

Dear Lizzy,

It has been decided –finally! –you are to leave for Kent on the ninth next month. I _am_ aware that you have not given me a firm acquiescence to my –oft repeated- invitation, and I shall presume to know why. Dearest Lizzy, Hunsford may be very comely, with everything I could desire from such a match, but I must admit it sorely lacks the presence of refreshing and diverting company. It is true we dine with Lady Catherine more than twice a week, however, I may hardly go to her for reasons of entertainment and mutual enjoyment. Few amongst the parishioners are of my generation and position, and even those few are of a mindset completely unlike my own. Therefore, my problem is but simple ennui, and you must forgive me, Lizzy, if it seems to be too humble a reason for my seeking your company. I am also aware that you might find yourself awkwardly placed, staying as a guest at a former suitor's establishment. Mr. Collins himself –with no encouragement from my quarter- insisted on your presence, for he is quite aware of my close relationship with you. You need not fear on that part, Lizzy, Hunsford is ready to welcome you full-heartedly. Father will be escorting Maria here over the course of two days, with a night's halt in Town, and then will stay with us for a week. You may therefore rest at your Uncle Gardiner's for a night and see Jane as you do –I'm sure you will both be pining for each other's company by now. I have already written home about your possible inclusion and Father heartily approves, for Maria could do with some unattached company as well. As to your return, well, Maria will be staying here at Hunsford for a little over six weeks, and you are obviously welcome to stay just as long or even longer, if you so desire and are able to spare yourself.

Do come, my dear Lizzy; Kent is marvellous in the spring, and you shall be coming here in the best possible season. I have run out of reasons to convince you, I only hope that you _are_ suitably convinced, and if not for anything else, do come for your dearest friend. Convey my warm regards and Mr. Collins' respectful salutations to the inhabitants of Longbourn. I await your answer with much eagerness.

Yours, &c.,

Charlotte Collins

* * *

><p>Hunsford<p>

Sunday, March 15 1812

Dearest Jane,

I do apologise for not writing you sooner, but believe me, I would have, had I had anything material or interesting to write about. We arrived safe and sound; Sir William was indeed too kind to bring me along with him and Maria in such comfort. He leaves on the morrow, and this letter shall leave with him, for he has very kindly promised to deliver it to you.

I arrived to find Charlotte and Mr. Collins in perfect health and with all the contentment such a match could have suggested. Between you and me, Jane, I still maintain Charlotte could have done better for herself, but I should be lying if I said she was miserable. She is quite happy –I suppose there is a certain kind of agreeable freedom a woman attains when she becomes Mistress of her own household, despite the company or the circumstances. Their temperaments actually suit each other admirably –Charlotte does not stand for much nonsense, but eight and twenty years at Lucas Lodge and merry Meryton has taught her to bear it well. Mr. Collins lacked nothing but some good sense in his household; in that aspect, I am sure that the greater felicity from this marriage is _his_ and not _hers_, as the rest of the world might imagine.

Kent as a country, I must say, does not disappoint. Charlotte was right; in springtime, Kent is quite a marvellous sight. On our arrival, however, there was still some frost left over from the winter for which we were quite unprepared; we were thus forced to remain indoors for nigh on three days. It was not the torture I expected it to be –other than pining for a ramble in the grounds, I was quite content to stay with Charlotte and while the time away with talk, and by the by, you were right, Jane, I _had_ missed her most profoundly. On Thursday, the weather was fine enough for us to venture outside and that evening we were invited for dinner at Rosings.

My dearest Jane, you will be pleased to know that Lady Catherine is everything that we imagined her to be, and even more. Papa would have been delighted to no end had he met her. Her daughter, Anne, is frail and sickly, and I do feel sorry for her. Growing up under Lady Catherine's fine autocratic nose would have been nothing less than torture, I should imagine. I shall say no more, for I am afraid I might divulge all the imprudence in its entirety –and that is something I shall reserve not for paper, but for our long talks through the night, my dearest sister.

Do write often, I myself shall have little to write, for there is not much of import I will be doing here in Kent other than going for walks or dining at Rosings, which in itself is quite monotonous. Write me about your activities, I am sure London is far more diverting than quiet Kent.

Your loving sister,

Elizabeth

* * *

><p>Rosings<p>

Wednesday, March 25 1812

My dear Georgiana,

How do you fare? I send with this letter several music sheets that Aunt Catherine very kindly chose for you; she also sends a letter, for which I suggest you consume a nice, hearty meal before you peruse it.

Kent, as usual, is quite splendid, and Rosings looks rather more fine than it did in the previous years. Perhaps Aunt Catherine has acquired a new gardener, or perhaps I myself am paying more attention to the gardens than is my wont, but the opinion is unanimous –Rosings Park has gardens almost to rival those of Pemberley. You would certainly adore the colourful splendour surrounding Rosings, and a walk outside would no doubt drive all remembrances of the boredom awaiting within –as is the case with me, at the moment. Henry, too, is in fine humour; we often walk out everyday –on visits or for just leisurely rambles.

Rosings this year also offers more divertissement in the form of acquaintances –new for Henry, but old ones, in fact, for me. I am sure you remember the pretty cottage which is the parsonage which lies not far from Rosings. That parsonage, Hunsford, has been occupied by a Mr. Collins in the year since we last came here. I had the occasion of meeting Mr. Collins in Hertfordshire last winter, and his new bride, the erstwhile eldest Miss Lucas, daughter of a Sir William Lucas, the latter of whom I am sure I have mentioned to you. Also residing with the Collinses are Mrs. Collins' sister, and Mr. Collins' cousin, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I'm sure you remember my mentioning Miss Bennet as the one who was so fond of a ramble in the country –she is, I am glad to say, most faithfully following this observation of mine by remaining outdoors for a certain period of time almost everyday. It is thus that we find ourselves sharing a walk almost daily in the pleasurable company of Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas.

Anne, as you should imagine, partakes of none of these activities herself. She goes out in her phaeton every now and then, and Henry and I accompany her to appease the Lady, but no more. She talks even lesser than she used to, and often, the phaeton rides are filled with only mine and Henry's conversation. I pity her, Georgiana, but I do not know what I can do to help her –as it is, I'm afraid I am too late, for Anne is become a most dull, lifeless creature. It is not as if we ever were closely connected for me to know any better; Anne, I am sorry to say, was largely ignored and taken for granted by myself and the Fitzwilliams in our younger days, with all the condescension expected from a bunch of boys towards a silent little girl. I understand your concern for her, my dear, but believe me when I say there is little I can do. She grew up under Lady Catherine's firm control –her dullness and reticence is thus the result of more than two decades of domestic oppression. She may only hope for her freedom through marriage –a situation which only serves to acerbate my guilt over the matter, as I'm sure you will comprehend, but while I place familial duty highly amongst my priorities, I place domestic happiness even higher, and thus am not swayed. Nevertheless, I have my moments of doubt and guilt, which is when I pray for our aunt to try to understand my position and change her mind, however improbable such an event would seem.

And now, quitting such unpleasantness, I must ask –how goes your practise on the pianoforte? Mr. Thaddeus informed me that you have a new composition to work on; I understand it is different, and somewhat uncommon. Does it offend your meticulous precision and challenge your triumphant mastery? Or is it nothing compared to the formidable talent that resides in your fingers? I am no musical virtuoso, but I believe I may not find myself completely clueless when you tell me of your musical trials and pursuits.

I hope you find yourself complacent and content in Town, my dear. If you find the solitude too oppressive, or the routine too tedious or monotonous –anything, in fact, to disincline you towards Darcy House, do let me know instantly, and I shall have you moved to Pemberley as soon as you wish. As it is, I know you are intending to follow your original plan of going to Pemberley for the summer –when would you like to put this plan into execution? I shall remain at Rosings for perhaps three more weeks, if such a lengthy stay would be of no inconvenience to you. Write me your opinions, plans, and wishes, my dear, for I have a very humble, though strong curiosity to know of them.

I remain, your loving brother,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

* * *

><p>- Square,<p>

Saturday, April 4 1812

My dearest brother,

You are too modest in accepting your talents, for if I am to be a master at the pianoforte, it should thus be implied that you have a talent ten times more prodigious than mine, seeing as you are my _older_ brother, and easily the most perfect man I have ever known. Before you dissemble, I shall move on to keep you abreast of my musical trials and tribulations, as you are so determined to know.

Mr. Thaddeus was right in presuming the new piece to be rare and uncommon, but you are wrong in presuming it to be difficult, for it is not. It is rare, because it is by a man yet living, and the piece is only about a decade old, which rather delights me, for most of my performances are dated much older than myself. It is uncommon, because it is a queer, melancholy sort of composition that would do perfectly well for my solemn moods –do not vex yourself, brother, at this pronouncement. I am not sad; merely thoughtful, and I must admit your last letter has brought me into this state more often, for a reason I am sure you cannot guess.

The reason is our cousin Anne, and I must admit that I experience the most heartfelt regard and pity for her. Although she is my senior by almost ten years, I feel myself more superior to her with respect to my circumstances and situation, in short, my way of life. It is a most depressing thought that someone far older than me, and with far more rights to independence and wilfulness(for I am sure she is not half as shy as I am) is such a quiet, depraved creature; so quiet that in her presence, _I_ should be called talkative! –it is a sad state of affairs indeed. Aunt Catherine has always impressed me with her strength of character, and thus I am even more surprized at her only child being such a repressed, feeble sort of person. I perfectly comprehend your view on the matter, which only saddens me more –I really should like for some betterment to reach cousin Anne, even though I understand that there is nothing you can do in the matter. It is yet another hardening lesson to me that not everything in this world is full rosy and perfect, and I find myself thanking Him more frequently for my excessive good fortune at having born into this family.

Which brings me to the second solemn matter I wish to discuss with you –will you forgive me, brother, for daring to advice, and perhaps, console you? – myself, the young, naïve little sister to the good, experienced older brother? It is, atleast to me, a most serious matter, and it is most imperative that I share my thoughts with you, before all notions of propriety and dutiful respect come into the picture.

I wish to talk to you about marriage, dear brother. You mentioned, in your letter, of the only escape for cousin Anne from her situation –that of marriage, and your guilt at not embracing this solution to our cousin's troubles. My dear brother, I would like to tell you, nay, convince you that you are not at all at fault. Indeed, it is one matter to do everything to aid one's own blood in serious circumstances, it is another thing altogether when it means bringing into consideration the entire lifestyle and character of oneself.

Perhaps I speak too surely for a mere girl of my age and situation, but I'm sure we both agree that recent happenings have brought a new perspective to my senses. I have been provided with ample time and opportunities to ponder about such serious notions, and I feel grown, more wise since my naïve situation some eight months past.

If it is not too imprudent nor too bold, I should like to advice you thus: marry for affection, my dearest brother. I am most acutely aware of our duty to our name, our bloodline and our wealth to marry advantageously –if you will excuse my cynicism, I believe this to be more a bane than a boon. Whether as a friend or something far more intimate, I am still most hopelessly lost when I must judge a character and determine whether the individual in question is truly desiring my own personal company or the wealth and connexions that must come with my association –I am sure you comprehend perfectly the pain I must feel when it is most often proved to be the latter case. In such a scenario, my belief in a happy marriage –a marriage based on the deepest and purest bonds of love and companionship –has only increased; it is now more imperative for me to seek felicity in such a union –an alliance formed for any other reasons is neither pure nor felicitous. Will you thus disapprove, brother, if I should wish the same for you? –for I am certain you definitely _deserve_ joy of this sort, wonderful human being that you are.

In brief, all I wish to tell you is this: choose well, my dear brother, and not from the practical, calculating depths of the mind, but from the sensible, ever-good, ever-true heart. Choose for love, for joy, and for laughter –and choose for me, so I may finally have a sister to love and be loved.

I can say no more, I already feel as if I have committed a grave wrong by presuming to advise and counsel _you_ –but I could not rest until I made my feelings known to you, and indeed, to whom else could I have made these feelings apparent but you? Thank you, dearest brother, for bearing my many indiscretions with such patience, for taking care of me with such diligence, for indulging my every whim, wish, and fancy –indeed, thank you for _everything_!

Your beloved sister,

Georgiana

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'd like to think that Georgiana's letter was the final push that made Darcy propose to Elizabeth... what do you think? Is Georgiana's letter touching enough for Darcy to 'take the leap'?**


	6. VI: Aftermath

**Oh-kay, THE most exciting chapter for me is finally up! It was this chapter that actually made me start this story in the first place, so I hope it's not too bad! Forgive me for the delay -I consider this chapter very, very special, and I'm sure you'll see why when you read it -so I wanted as few mistakes as possible.**

**Please review and let me know how it comes out for you!**

* * *

><p><strong>VI. Aftermath<strong>

-Square,

Friday, April 17, 1812

Dearest cousin Henry,

I do hope this letter finds you in good health. My brother, I'm afraid, returned from Kent with a not too healthy demeanour, the cause of which, he insisted, was a rather unnatural chill lately in the environment of Rosings, which, if true, must have affected you as much as him.

As much as I believe my brother to be steadfastly honest and undisguised sans fault, I admit I wonder if he divulged the absolute truth to me in this case. His symptoms exceed the regular manifestations of a chill, even coupled with the fatigue of a long journey, and I am almost certain there is some other explanation for my brother's low spirits. He is greatly altered even with myself –reserving himself to a few, choice, distracted words, and brooding in pained silence for most of the time. I do not understand, Henry, oh! –I do so wish to help him, for I can see there is some matter paining and distressing him. It is true that he shows not one sign of this distress upon his visage, but I _do_ know it is true –call it the inbred intuition of a sibling, if you will, or perhaps I am well accustomed to my brother's mannerisms to know when he is not in his best mood –in any case, I am certain I am right. I write to you, dear cousin, with the fervent hope that you may know something of this matter, so I may stop conjecturing the worst possible reasons for his state, and help him in any way I can. If you do not know anything of it, you must not berate yourself for your unhelpfulness, as I am sure you would. If you do know something –anything! –do inform me, Henry, I implore you. My dear brother is most certainly suffering, and for my life I could not stay tranquil while he does so! My kindest regards to my Uncle and Aunt, and to my cousins. Do reply at the speediest juncture, dear cousin, for I await your reply with much impatience!

I remain, your faithful ward, and your dear cousin,

Georgiana Darcy

* * *

><p>Brunswick Hall,<p>

Matlock,

Thursday, April 23 1812

Dear Georgiana,

I hope the distress that you described so poignantly in your letter last does not ascribe to you as well. I am terribly sorry for the delay, my dear, for I was not at Brunswick for three nights past as I was away visiting an old acquaintance.

You conjecture rightly in believing your brother to be under some sort of strain. I am perfectly aware of the change in his temper, and I am obliged to inform you that I am aware of the _reason_ for this change as well. But here my forthrightness must end, my dear, for if I divulged more, I would be going back upon my word of honour, as a gentleman and as a dear confidant. Your brother indeed, is now experiencing distress and disappointment of perhaps the worst sort –it is a mark of your perception and your deep understanding of your brother for your divination of the matter. Do forgive me, Georgiana, but I'm afraid I will not be prevailed upon. Your brother's secret is his to keep, and in _his _eyes, I should be committing a most grievous falsehood by confiding in you, even for the most altruistic intentions –not that he doesn't place any trust in you, my dear girl, it is only that he wants not to burden you with his troubles. You are very acutely aware of his protectiveness for you, I'm sure, so I shall believe that you understand his reasons for all this secrecy.

I am very, very sorry for disappointing you so, Georgiana, but I believe enough in your goodness to know that you will acquit me –indeed, you have already offered your forgiveness in your letter had the matter run down a different path –if I am not forgiven, I suppose I shall have to make do with that dubitable acquittal for the present, and hope that I shall be adequately cleared for Christmas dinner later this year. If you should still value the opinion of a now unhelpful source, here it is: ask him about his tribulations yourself, why don't you? I perfectly concur with you when you insist you have every right to know of his grievances and sufferings –in that case, you have every right, as a beloved sister and his closest living relative, to ask him yourself. If you should show him even half the concern you have shewn in your letter to me, I am sure he will be convinced. Do not worry, my dear girl, it is not half as bad as you might imagine with your flights of fancy(fed, no doubt, by all those ghastly novels you seem to enjoy); I admit it is unto you to maintain the strong face in your brother's time of vulnerable despondency.

Do write me as often as you wish, my dear, I promise the speediest possible replies to your missives. Indeed, I should have come to visit directly, had not your brother particularly requested solitude upon our departure from Rosings. Inform me about any happenings, and of your brother's recuperation, for as much as I may announce to be the contrary, I quite care for him.

Take care, my dear, and be strong. Do let me know if I am still welcome for Christmas dinner.

Yours, &c.,

Henry Fitzwilliam

* * *

><p>The Room at the End of the Corridor,<p>

The Second Floor,

Darcy House

Sunday, 26 April, 1812

Dearest brother,

How do you fare? I do hope you shall answer me the truth in writing at least –you do not seem to be very forthright in physical conversation. Forgive me this rather silly manner of communication, but I am perfectly aware that we are both similar creatures –we say not much, but write truthfully, feelingly, and prodigiously. It is thus more facile for me to inquire after you in writing than by mouth –I am also hoping that it shall likewise be more facile for _you_ to reply with the truth of the matter.

Do tell me, my dearest brother, what grieves and pains you so. It fairly breaks my heart to see you thus, I will not have you languishing and suffering in your forced silent solitude –I _must_ have the truth, I insist. Do oblige me, and end my fearful suspense, I only wish for your happiness and peace of mind.

Your loving sister,

Georgiana

* * *

><p>The Room Not Quite at the End of the Corridor,<p>

The First Floor,

Darcy House

Monday, 27 April 1812

My dear Georgiana,

I must admit I knew not how to welcome such an unexpected piece of correspondence. I knew not whether I should give in to the fond memories of your childhood that arose in my mind(I am not sure if you recall, as well as I do, the little notes we kept exchanging surreptitiously through books smuggled in during your lessons at Pemberley), or whether I must deplore at your unerring judgement and your keen perception.

I am indeed most sorry that you should witness my hardship –I am sure it has caused you much pain, for which I am truly sorry. It is no troubling matter, my dear, but a quite trivial problem in business matters –which, in all its triviality, is all the more tormenting to myself. Do not distress yourself, dearest, it shall soon pass. Your concern heartens me, and you shall soon see me quite past the sordid affair, do not worry.

Your very loving, and admiring brother,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

* * *

><p>The Room at the End of the Corridor,<p>

The Second Floor,

Darcy House

Monday, 27 April 1812

My dear, dear brother,

Thank you –thank you for your truthful reply! Oh! –I was so worried you might deny it even then, and all hope should be lost! –there, I am overreacting, perhaps I am just glad you are not that much affected as I had feared, however much you seem to favour your glass of port these days. –Oh, yes, I have noticed that, my dear brother, you must not think I am _blind_, surely?

Of course I believe you, I know it shall pass, you are not the type of man to languish after some 'sordid affair', as you put it, for the remaining years of his life. But it has yet to pass, and in the meantime, I should very dearly like to know what it is that torments you so. If it truly is a business matter, and I may thus not be able to comprehend every particular of the matter, perhaps you could relate the problem to me in its essentials, and I would definitely try to aid you –indeed, I do so wish to aid you, my dear brother, if only you would let me! Do explain to me –simply, plainly, and I shall try to give it my perspective.

Your loving sister,

Georgiana

* * *

><p>The Room Not Quite at the End of the Corridor,<p>

The First Floor,

Darcy House

Tuesday, 28 April 1812

My dear Georgiana,

I suppose you will not let the matter pass unasked. Very well, I shall try to explain it in its bare aspects, without any particular names or details.

I had a professional interest set on a certain party –one which at first went quite unnoticed by me, but which rapidly came to my attention through several other quarters. It seemed to me at first that doing business with such a party might be unsuitable, and I even added a warning concerning the party in my reference to another estate. Soon after that, however, it seemed the party in question was quite suitable to do business with, for the few disadvantages I had observed seemed rather unimportant, and even silly at times. After being thoroughly convinced of the party's reliability, respectability, and even suitability to Pemberley, I decided to request the party's collaboration in doing business with the great estate of Pemberley. I was surprisingly, and very shockingly denied, and my offer rejected. Several points in objection were raised, which though based on inaccurate assumptions, were disturbingly valid. It is these unavoidable valid points of objection that distress me so, my dear Georgiana, for the opinion of the aforementioned party is valued highly –especially by myself –and there is truth in every objection of hers. As much as I should hate to find such glaring faults, the party had the truth of the matter, and the disappointment and disillusionment arising from that inescapable truth are the culprits of my torment. You are aware, of course, of my pride and admiration for the beauty and magnificence of Pemberley, and you may well imagine the result of such a pronouncement.

There you have, my dear, a full, though undetailed, account of the matter. Do aid me if you are able –I am sure I quite require your aid, my dear girl.

Your loving brother,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

* * *

><p>The Room at the End of the Corridor,<p>

The Second Floor,

Darcy House

Tuesday, 28 April 1812

My dearest brother,

I must admit that I had not expected the matter to be of such a form, and even more unexpected was your experience of such heartbreak, for I always believed you quite impervious to such situations. I suppose no one is truly perfect, but I am not shaken in my belief that you are as close to it as one could get.

I admit I was not too pleased to learn of this certain party's displeasure and disapproval –I perfectly comprehend your proud feelings when it comes to our home, for I am much of the same belief. However, I know you would not value the opinion of some person or persons without any justifiable reason, and if you should deem their opinions worthy, I am satisfied. As much as it pains me to believe in the existence of these unspecified faults, I suppose it must be the truth, if you acknowledge so. I understand your pain, dear brother, far more accurately than you may imagine, but my counsel to you for such an ordeal is only this: if you do indeed believe in the veracity of these faults, it would thus not do to remain inactive while these faults still remain at present. Correct the defects, dear brother, rid the unpleasantness away, and strive to achieve as much goodness as can be acceptable. Perhaps you shall obtain a chance in the future to prove your worth to the 'party' once more; even if that is not the case, you may well be assured of a corrected life, with as few failings as possible.

Do ponder over my words –I may be inexperienced, but I am confident you are not ill-advised in the present matter. Do write back with your feelings upon the matter, if all is as simple as I perceive it.

Your loving sister,

Georgiana

P.S.: What is her name?

* * *

><p>The Room Not Quite at the End of the Corridor,<p>

The First Floor,

Darcy House

Tuesday, 28 April 1812

My dearest Georgiana,

My belief and faith in your strong character and sharp perceptiveness has never yet been more emboldened. You have chanced upon the crux of the matter in an instant, and your remedy to my ordeal is so astoundingly apt and simple that I am shocked at myself for not happening upon it sooner. Indeed, my dear, I thank you, most fervently, for being such a support to your poor brother. And yet, in all its simplicity, your remedy is hardly facile to execute, for correcting faults in anything or anyone, for that matter, is no easy task. I shall follow your advice, Georgiana, I shall follow every word, and try my best to conquer this setback in the most positive way possible. However, if I should stray along the way, will you try and correct me to the right direction? Your brother seeks your aid, my dear, and sincerely hopes you may bestow it.

Your most loving and admiring brother,

Fitzwilliam

P.S.: I was not aware I mentioned any woman in the matter, of whom do you speak?

* * *

><p>The Room at the End of the Corridor,<p>

The Second Floor,

Darcy House

Tuesday, 28 April 1812

My dearest brother,

I am glad indeed that my counsel turned out to be of some assistance to you –you cannot imagine how glad I truly am! Do as you say, brother, I am sure you shall recover –and as to your straying, I am already certain that you shall never consciously do so; in the event that you _do_ unconsciously commit an error, you may absolutely depend on my immediate reprehension and correction.

As to the mysterious woman, I have had no intuitive preternatural divination –you simply mentioned her yourself in your letter. But worry not, my dearest brother, you slipped but once, and considering the circumstances, I should deem that you possess admirable self-control. Thus I repeat my enquiry: who is she, what is her appearance, and what sort of woman is she to deny anything to my great brother, Master of Pemberley? Oh! –you must not think I jest, dear brother, for I do not –I only possess a most ardent curiosity to know more about this singular woman –surely you would not deny such a humble request for information to your darling little sister?

Know that I shall always love and respect you, dearest brother.

I remain, your loving

Georgiana

* * *

><p>The Room Not Quite at the End of the Corridor,<p>

The First Floor,

Darcy House

Wednesday, 29 April 1812

My dear Georgiana,

Indeed, I suppose I should have expected it. It is true I have not been myself these past weeks, and thus often have had little control or awareness over what I speak. You, my dear, have turned out to be quite the match for my forced façade, as you seem to be able to see through it at all times. I am glad you still place me in high regard, but yet, I cannot help but feel that had you known what I did –my conduct, my behaviour, my treatment of the society around me, I would not be surprised if you should regard me with much less favour than before. But, no –I shall not dwell on these unpleasant memories, they cause enough harm in my mind as it were, without troubling yours as well. Sufficed to say, I was not in my best behaviour, Georgiana, and am suffering excessively due to my mistakes. Be not worried, my dear, I have brought this upon myself, and I alone stand to be tormented by it –nevertheless, your advice still holds good to my condition, and I assure you that I am decided upon doing exactly as you suggested.

As to the lady in question, would you forgive me, my dear, if I should prefer not to speak, or even write, of her at the present moment? The thought of her is yet too painful, the memory of my shocking disappointment too recent for me to discuss the matter with any form of equanimity. However much you may deem me tenacious, your brother is sadly only too human, and too affected by the first incident of heartbreak he has ever experienced in his life. I shall only say that she was a wonderful woman, splendid and unique, and that you would have liked her very much.

There, now you must be satisfied, you know all there is to know of the matter. Pray do not be distressed at my revelations –I had only insisted upon all this secrecy to avoid distressing you, my dearest, and I should hate it if it were the case.

Thank you my dear, for being so kindly considerate, so caring, so concerned for me –it already heartens and consoles me that I should have such a loving and supportive sister in my time of need, as much as the reverse is true.

I remain, ever your loving, indebted brother,

Fitzwilliam

* * *

><p>-Square,<p>

Wednesday, 29 April, 1812

Dear cousin Henry,

Thank you –thank you very much indeed for your farsighted advice! My brother has confided all, and is all the more devoted to me as a result. He is now slightly more social, and broods lesser, and although I have sometimes seen him look melancholy and forlorn, I have resigned myself to the fact that there is little I can do, for our roles were reversed not three months past. However, I am glad he has someone to depend on –by that I mean myself, and you, of course, dear cousin –and may thus recuperate with more alacrity than would be previously believed possible. He has not yet divulged the identity of this singular lady to me –perhaps there you may help me? –or will you be forced to break another promise, and thus deny my request?

In any case, you are completely forgiven for your previous helplessness, and are reinstated on the guest's list for Christmas dinner at Pemberley. I hope you are in as cheerful demeanour as ever, and that all my cousins and relations at Matlock are well and happy.

Your faithful ward, and dear cousin,

Georgiana Darcy

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Explanations! I'm not sure if this chapter really requires any, but since I tend to act like an over-zealous shrink when it comes to fictional characters, I'd like to explain the psychological aspects of this chapter:**

**Firstly, to anyone who might think the Darcy siblings' exchange as far-fetched, I'd like to point out an important thing: they're both shy. Now I'm not sure how many of you readers place yourself in this category, but I certainly do, and I'm not being snobby or over-imaginative when I say I'm a lot like Georgiana Darcy. Georgiana's chronic shyness is common knowledge, and everyone knows that Darcy's pride was just an evolved form of the former characteristic. And as a shy, introverted person myself(you can't tell by my comments, can you?) I find it far, far too easy to convey my feelings by writing rather than by word. Call it cowardly, call it weak, or just plain cute(it is, in Darcy's case *giggles*), but writing your feelings down is the most easy manner for quiet persons to express themselves.**

**Coming back to the particular, both Darcy and his sister came from well-educated, well-read backgrounds, and thus might infinitely prefer writing over a face-to-face conversation. Consider Austen's only example of Darcy's writing -the infamous letter he wrote to Elizabeth -see how perfectly his sentences flow, not one slip or awkward sentence, not one vague or inconsistent phrase. Everything is straightforward and lucid, and thoroughly correct at all times. This shows Darcy in his true element -capable of rational, connected, meaningful thought, not having to resort to rude or prideful silence, as he would have to in a physical conversation. I like to think Georgiana is much the same, though in a more softer, feminine, childish way. This would also explain the sly playfulness in her writing, which I believe she would not dare to be while in actual conversation with her brother.**

**And, end discourse! For all those people who nodded off during my little ramble, you may now wake up and review!*wink***


	7. VII: Crossroads

**Okay, huge, HUGE delay, for which I'm very, very sorry! A series of unfortunate events(*giggle*), which included terrible scores, terrifying sores and a terrorizing old PC, delayed me. But, thanks to my brand-new-gorgeous computer(yay!), I have been able to catch up and put together a nice, long chapter for your benefit! Thank you everyone for the favourites and the alerts -but, as usual, it's the reviews that make me ecstatic!**

* * *

><p><strong>VII: Crossroads<strong>

Gracechurch Street,

Sunday, April 19, 1812

Dear Mary,

Thank you for your kind concern for our required travelling; I must assure you that the journey was quite pleasant and uneventful, and Maria and I have arrived at Gracechurch Street safe and content. You may inform Mamma of our current location and Papa, of course, and try to induce him out of his study more, if possible –I know he is so insistent that one must imagine he was sown onto that terrible old armchair, but do try. I left the Collinses and the honourable de Bourghs in excellent health; the former having wished me to convey their fond thoughts to all present at Longbourn.

Jane, Maria, and I shall be leaving for Meryton exactly a week today, and thus you will not be much troubled for too long, my dear; I perfectly understand your hesitation, and indeed, dislike to be forced to take such an active interest in the governance of Longbourn so soon, and so you may cease fretting and count the few days to our return.

I do hope Mamma and Kitty and Lydia are reconciled to the painful(to them, of course, I perfectly know you do not share their sentiments) idea of the removal of all the redcoats in the neighbourhood. Also inform Lydia that Jane and I shall for no reason squander our pin-money on bonnets and more ribbons –heavens! How many more ribbons does she require to complete her wardrobe! Pray convey the same to Kitty. Also tell Mamma that we have _not_ met any eligible rich young men, and we do _not_ plan to attend a ball, seeing that we shall only reside here for the better part of seven days!

Oh, my dear, I see I have used most of this letter to make you messenger to others –I apologise. I have procured the book you wished of me, and I must also inform you that Uncle Gardiner has entrusted Jane with a surprise for you; he fervently hopes that his gift pleases you.

I do hope you are all in the best of health, and that Jane and I shall be welcomed with the usual Bennet effervescence when we arrive next week!

Your affectionate sister,

Elizabeth

* * *

><p>- Camp,<p>

Brighton

Monday, June 8 1812

Dear Catherine,

La! –is it not droll when I call you that? You must allow me to, for you do not know how much I am admired, and how importantly I am treated –it makes me feel quite grown-up –which I'm sure I am, seeing all the things I have done and come to know of.

You would have adored being here, I'm sure, but, well, you are not, and I suppose you must make your peace with that. The officers here are simply too marvellous, and what with the number of officers here, I'm sure you would not have all the jealousy and the heartbreak you experienced in Meryton when so many officers preferred me –but Harriet says I must not tease you, for it is enough that you are stuck there with my droll sisters. I go dancing every night and with a different man almost each set! –my, Harriet declared the very first evening that I was the most popular woman in the room –can you imagine how fun it all was!

But, Kitty, I must admit that I do miss you, mostly to share my fun and secrets –as a matter of fact, I wish to tell you _one_ particular little secret –you must tell _no one_, for it is important, and though it shall make you jealous, you must keep it to yourself and suffer alone. It is this: Wickham and I are engaged! Truly –he is the most handsome of all men, but of course you know that, and he is my perfect prince! It is true he has not asked me formally yet, but it is true all the same –he conveyed as much during our numerous rendezvous(is that the right spelling? Ask Lizzy or Mary if you will, they will know such dull things) –and let me add, Kitty, that Wickham does a lot more and better with his mouth than simply talking! There, that should suffice to feed your imagination, but I am sure that your imagination could never measure up to the real love that exists between us!

Tell no one, Kitty, or I shall inform Mamma that it was you that ruined her favourite lemon-coloured gown. I must away; Wickham is done with his duties for the day, and he promised to show me a pirate cave down by the beach.

Yours &c.,

Lydia Bennet

* * *

><p>Gracechurch Street,<p>

Monday, June 15 1812

Dearest Elizabeth,

I do hope this letter finds you in good spirits, my dear. Edward apologises for the delay, I'm quite sure you are most eager to tour the Lakes with us, and let me assure you that we share your excitement most ardently. The children are, of course, rather cast down about their being left behind; I must often remind them that they will not be left bereft of pleasures in our absence. I'm quite aware that your dearest sister spoils them most heartily, and the prospect of spending time with such a gentle playmate never fails to dry the tears and drive the tantrums away from my children.

Let me now elaborate on our decided-upon itinerary –I'm sure you are quite eagerly awaiting the details of our expedition so that your imagination may paint your adventures in unknown lands much in advance. We shall depart mid-July for nigh on six weeks of travelling –we shall pass through London, but will not halt there. Our first destination will be Derbyshire –we shall only spend a night in Derby, for there is not much to do or to see there, after which all the beautiful little havens of Bakewell, Chatsworth, Matlock, and Lambton, among others, will be most enthusiastically visited by yours truly, we shall halt for a day or two more at the latter, for I am sure you recall that it was there that I spent some of my happiest days as a child. Do not worry that you shall be left bereft of interesting pursuits, for the country is magnificent, the people pleasing, and not far from Lambton, I'm sure you know, is the childhood home of someone of much interest to you –but no, I shall not pursue the subject, the man did not behave as steadfastly as one would expect of him.

After Derbyshire we shall make for the wonderful wild lands near the Lakes. I have been there but once, but I must assure you, dear Elizabeth, that the one single visit has made such a strong impression in my mind –I shall never forget it. Revisiting this place will only make my remembrances clearer, and my satisfaction shall be even more complete knowing that I shall share my joy with you, my dear. I shall say no more of the country, for I would like you to form your own personal opinion about the land. As it is, Emma is making quite a fuss –my! –poor Jane will have her hands full during our absence I daresay –but I must away before the boys should make me reupholster the nursery furniture yet again! My warmest regards to my brother and sister and to my other lovely nieces.

Your affectionate Aunt,

Madeline Gardiner

* * *

><p>-Square,<p>

Tuesday, July 14 1812

Dear Anne,

Thank you for your kind letter. My constitution is as fine as ever, which only leaves me to inquire after yours. I was sorry to hear of your illness, and I do hope your throat is not giving you any more problems. Perhaps you should abandon the phaeton temporarily, for the wind and the vigorous nature of the activity might well inconvenience you more –I hope I am not too presumptuous in advising you, but I'm certain my brother would have advised the very same to me, had I been the afflicted one.

I hope you do recover soon enough, for I am, in truth, sending this letter with the added purpose of an invitation. We are to leave for Pemberley on the second of August –my brother and I, and a large party of my brother's friends; perhaps you have heard of them from him? –their name is Bingley, also present will be the Hursts, Mrs. Hurst being the former Miss Bingley. I do hope you can come this time, Anne, for it has been years since I myself have visited, and I'm sure you cannot recall the last time you did! If you can spare the time, and your health, do come without demurral, for it is our fond wish to see you here. Inform me of your plans at the earliest, but I quite understand if you must remain undecided until the very eve of our departure on account of your health –in which case you are as welcome as ever!

My respectful regards to Aunt Catherine, also convey to her my earnest assurances of continued practise on the piano-forte. I remain,

Your dear cousin,

Georgiana Darcy

* * *

><p>Rosings Park,<p>

Saturday, July 18 1812

Dear Georgiana,

Thank you for your assiduous concern. My throat feels quite improved, but I am afraid the chill has left my body weaker than before. I find myself often unable to perform the most menial of tasks and cannot move anywhere without Mrs. Jenkinson's constant presence. The phaeton, rest assured, was abandoned at the very instant of perusing your last letter, for your brother's opinion is held with such respect in this house that it is quite impossible for anyone to ignore it. I am sorry to say, Georgiana, that I am definitely unable to spare myself for the proposed trip to Pemberley. You may be certain of your invite being thought of most highly, but I cannot risk my indifferent health to the arduous journey that must be necessarily taken to reach your home. Had Mother been free to accompany me, perhaps that would have been a different matter, for, as you know, I go nowhere without her companionship. But Mother has magisterial duties for several days in the beginning of August, and, as such, is quite unable to spare herself. You may depend on the fact that your kindness is not taken lightly, and that very fond praises await your brother when he next comes to Kent. Mother insists on informing you that three hours a day is not sufficient practise for the piano-forte; also to concentrate more on drawing, or perhaps painting screens, for it would not do to excel in just _one_ accomplishment.

My regards to your brother.

Yours, &c.,

Anne de Bourgh

* * *

><p>-Camp<p>

Brighton

Thursday, July 31 1812

Dear Kitty,

I only just realised that I have not written you for days and days! –you must not scold me, for I have been dreadfully busy. Also, there is not much to write about; not that I have been doing nothing, but in fact because I have been doing so much that even the thought of writing it all down is tiring! Well, I suppose I will just jot down all the rumours abound in Camp for your sake –and jots they will be, for I cannot spare the time nor the paper for lengthy explanations! First of all, the biggest news –what do you imagine? Chamberlayne is run off to Gretna Green, he left last Monday sennight and is to return Friday next –and the most droll thing about it all is that he eloped with a _chambermaid_ in the innkeeper's employ! Is it not simply too ridiculous? –I could hardly stop laughing when I heard! Not that any of us were taken by surprise, for it was widely known that creature was his latest attraction, we all, in fact, addressed her as Chamberlayne's chambermaid! I suppose that had I not had my own beaux(of which only _one_, as you know, is my heart's true desire), I should have been quite jealous, for Chamberlayne was a very handsome, strapping, sort of man –la! I'm sure I needn't describe him, for you were quite taken with him, were you not, and you know him very well indeed! You must console yourself as well as you can, Kitty, for I am sure he would not have preferred you in any case –that girl was much more shapely and rosy than you, which, as I know, is what most men prefer. Really, Kitty, you must do something about your complexion, you are far too pale, and easily the thinnest of us sisters.

Well, the _other_ bit of news is far more exciting –one of the men was killed in a duel, not two mornings past! It was dreadful when the news came, there was such a to-do and poor Harriet had a swooning fit! I even knew the man, I had danced with him several times and his name was Trenton. In fact, he was a very good friend of dear Wickham, who, poor man, was so overcome by shock when he heard that it was simply horrid to see his pain! It seems Trenton somehow compromised a local gentleman's daughter, whose brother called him out. Wickham thinks Mr. Mason might have been unreasonable, and I quite agree! –for one thing I know for sure that Ada Mason could not have been as innocent as it seemed, for she is perfectly horrid, undeservingly proud, solely because her father _owns_ a miserable plot of land instead of _tending_ it. She even went as far as to advise me to leave the company of some officers(including Wickham!) –the nerve of that woman, patronizing me simply because she is older and befriending me solely because Papa is also a gentleman –bah! I'm sure the Martins in Longbourn estate are far more affluent than the Masons! I think she was simply jealous of Wickham's attentions toward me, which is why she settled for Trenton. Whatever anyone may say, Kitty, I _know_ Ada Mason is a nasty, scheming thing, and she got what she deserved from Trenton's death! –and I should see her try to raise the child all by herself now, and see if she gets even _one_ deserving beau!(another point against her, for how did she get with child, I wonder, without wanting anything to do with him? I'd like to see her answer that!)

The third piece of news I shall not describe too much –indeed, there is not much to describe, in any case –dear Harriet is with child! How perfectly marvellous for her, is it not? The Colonel is simply beside himself with joy, and everyone insists that dear Harriet is positively glowing! –though I must admit I hardly see any difference in her, but I compliment her all the same. The baby is due next February, and Harriet insists that I must come visit then, which I believe I shall do since I have a feeling I won't be too far from her when the baby is born!

Which brings me to my last bit of news –I shall simply say that Chamberlayne's incident has given me a very grand idea with which Wickham very heartily agrees. I just cannot stop laughing at the thought and at the look on poor Papa's face –oh, it is too droll! And so, dearest Kitty, expect another missive from me soon! –very likely it shall be indirect, and in my next letter to you, you shall see a certain happy change in my signature! But tell no one, I warn you, you have given me your word and I shall hold you to it.

There, I have written quite enough, I think, over which you may sigh and be jealous until my next one.

Yours &c.,

Lydia Bennet

* * *

><p>The Bronze Horseman,<p>

Leicester

Sunday, August 2, 1812

Mr. Fields,

This in reply to yours on the 29th ult. concerning your report on the northern canals; I concur with the estimate and permit the commencement of the renovation processes. The matter of the Lloyds' barn and the northwestern stables I wish to absolve before the arrival of my guests, for which I will depart hence at four o'clock precisely. You may expect me at Pemberley on the 4th inst. at the same time or sooner.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope Lydia's letters are abominable enough, especially the second one, where she makes oblique comments of a very 'T'-rating sort. They were mainly added to show how dangerous Lydia's position really was, because she had really the wrong levels of innocence and maturity; for e.g., when she cannot even imagine the concept of rape, but seems to know very well what it would imply if it was consensual. **

**Also, the 'Martins of Longbourn estate' would be farmers, in which case, she is throwing a very serious insult at the Masons by likening a 'genteel' family with a low-born farmers' one, and calling them worse, in fact!**

* * *

><p><strong>I've given Anne de Bourgh a very wry, morbid sense of humour, if you noticed(almost every sentence has an implied meaning) -how did that come across to you? :) <strong>

* * *

><p><strong>The 'Mr. Fields', is, I hope, obvious in being Mr. Darcy's steward. In the same letter, 'ult.' or 'ultimo' means the previous month, whereas 'inst.' or 'instant' means the current or present month.<strong>


	8. VIII: Lydia's Appointed Hour

**Yaye! Update! Again, sorry for the delay. This batch of letters was... stressful to write because of the more-than-usual number of formal letters. I don't think I've quite got the formal-ness, but hey! The end result was worth the effort!**

**As usual, my humble, teensy-weensy request: Please review!**

* * *

><p><strong>VIII: Lydia's Appointed Hour<strong>

Pemberley,

Saturday, August 8 1812

Sir,

I must begin by informing you that this express has naught to do with my last correspondence with your trusted firm. It is a matter of utmost urgency and secrecy that compels me to seek your aid; we have once before been concerned with the subject, I only rue that we must set upon it again. Allow me to be direct: George Wickham has entered my scope once more, albeit indirectly, and has been persisting in those activities for which he has made himself renown. He was lately employed as a Lieutenant in the –shire militia, currently camped in Brighton. It is believed that he has amassed quite a debt –honourable and otherwise –with several people in the camp, and it is known for certain that he made himself scarce Sunday last. But far more distressing is the fact that his defection was no mere escape, but an elopement. He has spirited with him a young lady of sixteen who answers to the name of Lydia Bennet. It is believed that they are currently in London.

I know that it is redundant to request you to set a search for the duo, especially to secure the lady, for I am certain you will already have made the arrangements. You may provide the searchers these particulars: she is moderately tall, well-proportioned, dark hair and dark eyes with no distinguishing marks that I am aware of. I may also add that it is unlikely that she shows any sign of emotional distress, in fact, she was totally compliant to this entire scheme, and as such, might even be generally euphoric. Nonetheless, I would not look at marriage registers as I am almost certain they are not married: the lady does not bring any material advantages his way.

I must also add another person to be watched out for, or indeed, sought, for she is a former associate of Wickham and may have knowledge of his current whereabouts. She was known to me as Abigail Younge, the veracity of which appellation I cannot guarantee. She is about fifty years of age, very short and stout, bleached white hair and blue eyes. She had a mole in the corner of her right eyebrow, which again, I cannot vouch for, as she may have painted it on. I should imagine her preferred occupation is as a lady's companion or governess, but solely as a respectable front. She seems to have known Wickham for at least more than a year, thus she may have mutual acquaintances with Wickham.

It is needless to state how imperative it is that some knowledge of any of the three must be found as quickly as possible, for the reputation of the girl and her family is at stake. I myself am departing for London within an hour of posting this express; I shall call upon you in your offices tomorrow.

I pray to God that a quick solution may be found.

I am, Sir, &c.,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

* * *

><p>Pemberley,<p>

Saturday, August 8 1812

Henry,

You will forgive me if I convey to you a sense of 'déja vu' as the French call it. Wickham, that rascal, has been up to even more mischief again. He has eloped with a certain Miss Lydia Bennet, a young woman gentle-born in blood, but quite loutish brain-wise, since she has gone with him most willingly, the foolish child! It does not bode well for her that she does not hail from an affluent family, and that her dowry is practically non-existent –as such, it is easy to believe that Wickham required her companionship with only one object in mind. They are most certainly in London, and I mean to recover her as soon as possible. Needless to say, I require your help, and urgent help in fact, for the longer we tarry, the greater chances of him abandoning her, and consequently, the deeper the stain on her honour. I shall be arriving at London tomorrow. If it does not inconvenience you, I would appreciate it if you awaited me at Darcy House whence we may hasten directly to Smoulding's(I have already written him to begin the enquiries). May our endeavours be smooth and swift,

Darcy

* * *

><p>Smoulding &amp; Pritchard,<p>

Russell Street

Monday, August 10, 1812

Mr. Darcy,

Pertaining to our conversation yesterday, I am finally in the possession of some pertinent information. It seems very little for now, but I am certain it is a step forward in the right direction. One of my boys returned with the positive identification of the Mrs. Younge. She still subsists under the same name, and offers lodging services on Edward Street. We have not done anything other than obtaining the address and confirming that fact that she is rarely out most evenings. We await your further orders, and hope that this issue is resolved speedily.

God be with you,

Edmund Smoulding

* * *

><p>Gracechurch Street,<p>

Tuesday, August 11, 1812

Sir,

I am sure you are aware that we have not been acquainted, and thus may wonder at my writing you. My name is Edward Gardiner, and I am brother by marriage to Thomas Bennet. Mr. Bennet and I are currently residing in my home here in Town. It has been several days since my brother began his search for his daughter; we are even now in the process of scouring the various hotels and inns for any information about the couple. I write you, Colonel, in the hope that you may provide us with any information concerning Mr. Wickham. Even the smallest details may suffice –we do not even know if he has any relations to whom he may apply for aid. I need not emphasize the gravity and urgency of this request. You may send your missives to the abovementioned address.

Believe me, sir, cognisant of and thankful for your assistance so far.

I am, Sir, &c.,

Edward Gardiner

* * *

><p>Westwich Down,<p>

Tuesday, August 11 1812

Darcy,

I am certain you will be blaspheming my good name even as you read this missive. I apologise, and only once at that, for how was I to know that the moment I left London deeming it too boring for my tastes was when that useless ruffian chose to return? In any case, you may depend on my speedy return; in fact, I believe I shall be departing with this very letter. We will see if it truly is possible to arrive before one's intimation, as some people claim.

As to the rogue, it appears he has crossed a line this time around: eloping, and that too with a penniless gentlewoman? I should have thought him incapable of such foolishness, for he certainly must wed her now, and banish all thoughts of honey-trapping a plump, rich heiress for his own satisfaction. You will forgive me my blunt words, I'm sure, for I speak the truth, do I not? Ah, despair not, Darcy m'boy, I _have_ taken upon this matter with utmost seriousness, for I recognised the last name of the foolish lout in question. I think I am not wrong in believing that the girl has at least one other sister, whom I certainly regard with some esteem, as I'm sure you do as well. I perfectly comprehend your determination in seeking to preserve the girl's honour, for her family is directly affected by her reputation, is it not? Well, well, I have written enough, it is time I depart. Save your rantings and scoldings until my arrival; at that moment, I promise to solicitously listen to your every admonition.

Henry Fitzwilliam

* * *

><p>Darcy House,<p>

- Square,

Thursday, August 13, 1812

Wickham,

This to inform you that we have held good upon our threat –you are now unobligated towards various tradespeople in Meryton, Hertfordshire, and miscellaneous officers in Colonel Forster's regiment. However, you do owe Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire, a sum total of five thousand, eight hundred and seventy two pounds. If you wish to persuade the gentleman to not have you thrown in debtor's prison where you belong, you will have to comply with his demands. We will wait for two days.

Henry Fitzwilliam

* * *

><p>Brighton Military Cantonment,<p>

Thursday, August 13, 1812

Sir,

As per your letter, I immediately instituted inquiries throughout the entire camp. It is with deep regret that I must inform you that we have not unearthed any possibly helpful information. Despite his open manners, Mr. Wickham seems to have been successfully keeping his past in the dark. There were only two officers he confided in more than others. Lt. Trenton, I am sorry to say, was killed in a civilian skirmish more than a fortnight past. It is a pity, for Wickham and he often socialised together, and he may have had some pertinent knowledge. Captain Denny, while still alive and in my employ, insists that he knows no more than the rest of the camp: that Wickham hailed from Derbyshire, and was educated, possibly with the clergy in mind, at Cambridge. Captain Denny was the individual who introduced Wickham to my regiment, I am sorry to say that I was given a notion of false honour when I recruited the latter. As it happens, Denny had only just met Wickham, lost to him spectacularly in a card game and was forced to purchase his commission and vouch for him as payment. Beyond that initial interaction, Denny knows no more.

I also took the measure of inquiring my wife, who, as your niece's dearest confidant, might have some notion of their whereabouts. But my wife is far more ignorant of the particulars of this situation than even the officers, perhaps: she insists that Gretna Green was the predetermined destination, and is quite surprised at their going to London instead.

I wish I had happier news or concrete information to give you, Sir, or indeed, to be of some assistance. Believe me, I still find myself partly culpable for this misfortune, and add my hope to yours that this bother may be resolved speedily and with satisfaction.

I am, &c., &c.,

Colonel Reginald Forster

* * *

><p>- Street,<p>

Friday, August 14, 1812

Darcy,

You drive a hard bargain, and it seems you have no scruples in dooming a childhood playmate to the hellish depths of prison. I suppose I have no other choice in the matter. You are given leave to visit me again, and then we will talk, for I have demands of my own, old boy, make no mistake. And leave your pet Colonel Cousin behind; his affinity to blades and other weaponry will not make me as accommodating as you'd like, on the contrary.

Wickham

* * *

><p>Gracechurch Street,<p>

Friday, August 14, 1812

My dear Mrs. Gardiner,

I am certain that you will be expecting good news of any sort with this missive, and, loath though I am to do it, I must once again discourage your hopes: they are yet missed. As I feared, our rounds on the various hotels and like establishments yielded no results, and brother Bennet has finally acknowledged that there is little he can do while he remains in town. He has agreed to turn homewards on the morrow, while I continue my enquiries here. Thus, I believe it is acceptable for you and the children to return, for I am sure the Bennets miss their patriarch, even as I profoundly miss my own family! I hope my nieces are subsisting well in this adversity, and that my sister is not too inconvenienced –perhaps Thomas' return will serve to soothe her nerves.

I think it best if you depart early tomorrow in the Longbourn carriage with the children, so the Master may be conveyed home in the luxury of his own carriage. I send my fondest regards and prayers to the household, especially to my brave nieces.

I remain, my dear, your fond husband,

Edward Gardiner

* * *

><p>Gracechurch Street,<p>

Wednesday, August 19, 1812

Dear Kitty,

Well, it appears I have written to you with no visible change in my signature. But it is of no import, the vital thing is that we definitely are to be married, on the 31st! Not that I doubted its happening, of course. Only the date was not set yet, and, I have to admit, it is far more exciting to be married in London than at boring old Gretna Green! I find myself pining for my beloved, and quite impatient for the wedding day to come. I do not, however, understand my Aunt Gardiner, she does not speak one kind word to me! –not that she is rude, but she speaks as if we are formal acquaintances! I find myself quite astonished at her behaviour, but, I have let her be. I am sure she is simply jealous of my handsome fiancé and the grand, exciting adventure that I have had –after all, her life with all the children and old Uncle Gardiner must be rather dull, and I do not blame her for envying me. All the same, I think it is mean-spirited of her to force me to stay indoors. Indeed, we are not to visit any theatres or attend balls; in fact, she is not even receiving guests at the moment. Also, I am not even given leave to chuse my own wedding gown, or even meet dear Wickham! –as Mama would say, it is all too vexing! I find that thoughts of my dashing lover are all that keep me content in this dull, morbid house.

Although Aunt Gardiner insisted otherwise, I write to ask if any of my sisters will be attending the ceremony ten days hence: I am sure you would like to be present, Kitty, for I will certainly make you my bridesmaid! I cannot comprehend the absence of even Mama –surely she would like to see her favourite daughter getting married?

Write me your reply, Kitty, as soon as you can, and then I may plan the wedding with additional guests in mind.

Yours, &c.,

Lydia Bennet

* * *

><p>Gracechurch Street,<p>

Wednesday, 26 August, 1812

Bennet,

I perfectly comprehend your feelings and your very persistent arguments to justify banishing your errant daughter from your sight forever. With all due respect, Thomas, the banishing has already been done; after the wedding, they will set off to Newcastle, which might as well be Bombay in terms of distance! One little visit, to appease my sister and the neighbourhood, and they will never bother you again. Do think upon it, my dear fellow.

My fondest wishes to my dear nieces and my incomparable sister.

I remain, &c.,

Edward Gardiner

* * *

><p>Longbourn,<p>

Friday, August 28, 1812

Gardiner,

You should have taken to the bar like our good brother Philips, for you place your arguments with much conviction. You were right: my wife needs to fawn over her dearest child one last time, Lydia needs to show her ring and husband off(in that order, I am certain) to everyone within twenty miles of Longbourn, and the good people of Meryton need to be convinced of the return of the Bennets' respectability. I will allow my youngest daughter to visit with that husband of hers, but it is a one-time occurrence, I will have her know.

You may send her after the wedding breakfast, and they will stay for not above ten days; on this, I remain resolved.

My thanks and gratefulness for your part in this affair, are, of course, well-known to you.

Yours, &c.,

Thomas Bennet

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Explanations! The letters basically alternate between the two separate searches for stupid Lydia: her family's, which was unsuccessful, and Darcy's, which obviously was. (DUH, it's Darcy!)**

**"Edmund Smoulding" is a solicitor in the Darcys' official law firm. If Darcy's letter to him is not that... formal, let me explain that Mr. Smoulding, being far older than Darcy, and possibly well known to old Mr. Darcy, has had a closer relationship with him than simply that of client-lawyer.**

**Lt. Trenton, in case you've forgotten(blame it on my late update, I know) was mentioned in Lydia's scurrilous letter in the previous chapter.**

**Also, I'd like to think that the dear, jolly Colonel was not _completely_ sober in his first letter to his cousin... just sober enough to write a perfect letter, and race to London on horseback! What do you think? *winks***

**And lastly, I chose the chapter name because, it really is a significant time for Lydia: each and every letter in the above chapter centres on her! She must have savoured all the attention, I'm sure!*rolls eyes* **


	9. IX: Return to Netherfield

**Wow, HUGE gap -which I'm aware of, and for which I'm dreadfully sorry, but hey, good news! I'm done with the stories! Yes, read on and enjoy, dear readers, and don't forget to drop a review, it's been a while since I got one of those...*makespuppyeyes***

* * *

><p><strong>IX: Return to Netherfield<strong>

- Square,

Thursday, September 10, 1812

Bingley,

I hope your stay at Scarborough is pleasant enough, and you are not too disconcerted by the suddenly shortened trip to Pemberley. Once again, I must apologise for being so precipitate in my actions, I hope you know that I should never have acted thus had it not been a matter of utmost importance and urgency.

I write to inform you that the matter has been resolved most satisfactorily, and now find myself facing several idle hours every day here in Town. I wonder if you are amenable to spending some time taking advantage of the game season? I'm sure a certain amount of hunting would have both soothing, as well as rejuvenating effects on one's tired psyche. If the idea is agreeable to you, I should like to suggest going to Netherfield for this purpose. Pemberley, of course, is always open and welcome to any form of game enthusiasts, but I am expecting to return to town soon for some important business, and would prefer to remain closer to London. In any case, it is quite a waste to simply lease a country home and not utilise its many benefits, do you not agree?

Do reply as soon as you are able, for I would like to settle my plans somewhat in advance. My regards to your sisters and Aunt Bingley.

Yours, &c.,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

* * *

><p>Bonnywell,<p>

Scarborough

Monday, September 14, 1812

My dear Darcy,

I am glad that the pressing business seems to have been completed satisfactorily, you seemed far too grave and anxious for me to remain unconcerned. I must admit that your letter both shocked and gladdened me, perhaps the former more than the latter. Frankly, my dear fellow, I always imagined you detested Netherfield, for you could not wait to quit the place, as I vividly recall. I suppose it is another instance of your all-round magnanimity that you are able to contemplate returning to such a hateful place, simply because it is the most logically sound option. Very well, I will not question your motives, nor extoll your manifold virtues anymore; you may depend on my return to Town within a week, or, as it really will be, three days from the moment you receive this letter. At that point, we will confer and decide upon a date of return based on the inclinations and requirements of both.

My sisters will likely not accompany me this time, for they are to visit another 'dear' acquaintance of theirs, who, by some fantastic bit of luck, are residing with a large party of guests in this very part of England, near Darlington, as a matter of fact. I knew they had agreed to this trip with suspicious ease, and now I find my suspicions justified. Indeed, they have been too vocal in the past about their disapproval of everything related to this quaint place, including its name(I personally think it has a very merry ring to it, do you not agree?), and its resident. Well, well, I will not waste any more paper on such pointless thoughts. I shall see to my packing immediately and inform Auntie. The dear old girl has asked me to remind you that violins do not sound themselves and that a Friday-faced nonesuch is no better than a foppish coxcomb*****. I completely denounce any claims to be able to understand such cryptic statements, and leave the decrypting to your highly superior intellect.

My warm regards to Georgiana and other members of your extended family.

I remain, &c.,

Charles Bingley

* * *

><p>Lucas Lodge,<p>

Tuesday, September 22, 1812

Dear Charlotte,

I am writing at this moment for I have not much else to do. My company in Meryton has highly diminished for Lydia is married, and although Mama says I must be thankful for being saved from her scandalous company, it is Kitty I miss all the more for she is confined to Longbourn and given the most horrid strictures, all because of Lydia's thoughtlessness. Neither of us are very pleased by this state of affairs but Mama says I must endure.

It is not _completely_ boring, for there is much gossip abound. Lydia was most talked of, of course, but lately, who do you think has returned to Meryton? –why, Mr. Bingley, to be sure! We were all certain he was to never come back; indeed, one look at poor Jane's forlorn face was enough, but now he is returned, and spending more time in Longbourn outside Netherfield than any other establishment, so I hear. I can hardly imagine his agenda –after abandoning poor Jane like that without a word for months –oh, how she must have suffered! Mama quite agreed that she(Jane) was most cruelly dealt with –so Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips were heard to be complaining. But lo and behold, he is in Netherfield, and all the more surprising since, now more than ever, after Lydia's scandal, none of the Bennets' old suitors were expected to return, so Mama was saying just a week past and I did agree. His frightening sisters are not with him, although Mr. Darcy is come. I hardly know what to think of _him_, Charlotte, for he seems quite unchanged from his usual manners, and yet he is Lady Catherine's nephew, and I'm sure I could not hate him after that! The people are all a-whisper about him, Mrs. Philips was quite prepared to think the worst about him once more, but Mama said, and quite rightly, that it would not do to judge him ill _now_, seeing that he is Lady Catherine's nephew and that all the mean stories we heard about him were from Wickham, that blackguard. I said as much the same thing, and Papa was quite proud. "It will not do to think so ill of someone of such noble connexions. We were gravely in error to presume to do so last Autumn," said he and I could not agree more.

Lizzy agrees also(we called at Longbourn yesterday morn), although she has quite changed in her manner. She does not speak ill of him –in fact, she refuses to speak of him at all, I suppose she must regret her vexation with him when she saw him last –la! I forget, she _did_ see him afterward, in Rosings, there I know he spent much time with us. Indeed, it is because of Kent that I cannot think so ill of him, he was such a gentleman throughout, Charlotte, I'm sure you said so, I remember, although his cousin was far more jolly and fun, if not handsome –if only Mr. Darcy was the one with the red coat, he certainly would have made a dashing officer!

I must not digress, nor talk of officers, Papa will be seriously displeased, but can you wonder at my imagination? In any case, it is quite hard to fall in love with Mr. Darcy, for all that he is handsome, for he is much too frightening and solemn. I do wonder sometimes who would marry Mr. Darcy, surely a prim, Society lady of some sort, and yet I wonder sometimes if _he_ would ever fall in love with such a lady since he seems to enjoy the outdoors so much. I'm sure he is not half as bad as he looks, for Cook told me the butcher had heard from Netherfield that it was Mr. Darcy's idea to return to Netherfield –if that is true, then he is a very kind man indeed, helping along the cause of his dear friend's romance –la! What if he is as romantic as men are not purported to be –why, then a novel could be written on the romance of a man such as he, I'm sure!

There, I must stop, Papa really will not approve of my talking of a gentleman like so, I will speak of other things. John wrote home, but he mentioned in his letter that he would write you too, and I'm sure you know all about him without me having to forward any details. One of Mrs. Turner's sows died three nights past, and she was ever so cut up about it. Mama said it would not matter, that she was laid aside for the kitchen anyhow, but of course, you know Mrs. Turner and her histrionics. Susan's sister wrote from Town to tell her about all the fun she is having, poor Susan is quite jealous, and has begun to beg to visit her brother once more. In the letter, Susan told me, was described a new dance –although not quite new, apparently, but I'm sure I have never heard of it –called the waltz, and it is scandalously intimate. What do you think, Charlotte, the gentleman must place his arm on the lady's hip –for the entire dance! I'm not quite sure if they even change partners or not, but it seems far, far too intimate for my tastes, and I cannot imagine ever dancing so closely with a gentleman indeed! Susan says soon it is all everyone will dance, although it is quite a nice thought, I would not want that since our usual dances are so lively –I should imagine that with such a proximity in the new dance, there would not be much skipping involved!

The harvest this time is much improved, so says Papa, but I hardly know such matters. One of Assembly Hall's windows broke during the last Assembly for some drunk vagrant threw a rock from outside. We were all quite shocked and rightly scared, he is a new farm-hand at Susan's. She seemed quite frightened with the prospect of having for a farmhand a murderer, but Lizzy scolded her to stop overdramatizing the incident, she said it so well that we could hardly keep our laughter in, and though what she said was quite rude, to be sure, we did laugh heartily. Well, _you_ know how she is –oh! She bade me tell you that she misses your company and that the time she spent in Kent was one of her most interesting trips –her second-most interesting, "but Charlotte already knows that," she said. I asked her what was her first-most interesting, and though she did not seem to want to tell me, "My visit to the North with my Uncle and Aunt Gardiner." I did ask more, but she would not say why –I suppose she will tell you in one of her letters. Kitty has quite improved her haberdashery –you should have seen her bonnet and her gown Sunday last, Charlotte, I thought they were all new, to celebrate Lydia's wedding, I supposed. But no, you do remember her lemon-yellow gown, the one she wore to your wedding? Well, she cut out the lace from one of Lydia's old dresses(for I hear she –Lydia –got several new ones upon marrying) and trimmed it to the gown. The lace is rather old-fashioned but goes so well with the yellow –and there was some remaining after, so she trimmed her bonnet with it as well! Did she _ever_ look so stylish, Charlotte, I am quite envious of her good taste! Mama says I must learn to sew better as well, and thus I am again labouring with needle and thread, although my fingers tremble so and it hurts my eyes. Perhaps you could send me one of your samplers, Mama says the one you made with the flower was quite simple and that I could try to duplicate it.

There! I have written so much, Lizzy says she is quite pleased at my eloquence(she stands beside me as I finish) and begs me to remember her to you once more. Write back as soon as you are able, for I have no one else to expect letters from(John will not write for a few more months and he writes to Mama, in any case) and do not forget the sampler. My kind and respectful regards to Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh.

Yours, &c.,

Maria Lucas

* * *

><p>Whitely Manor,<p>

Darlington

Saturday, 26 September, 1812

My dear Brother,

Louisa and I were shocked when we received your letter: that you embarked upon such an important decision without consulting your dear sisters rankles within us, Charles! Netherfield was a mistake –you admitted it yourself, and how could you even countenance returning to that hateful place! Desist, brother, it is pointless to return –if you so dearly wished to hunt, you could have joined us here! The game is simply splendid(so the gentlemen tell me), or if you are not convinced enough, why do you not journey to Pemberley? I'm sure Mr. Darcy, kind man that he is, would not mind at all, and if you would but inform him that it is _my_ wish that you must not return to Hertford, I'm sure he would understand immediately. Do inform him, brother, and when you shall journey thither, inform your sisters so we may join you before our return trip to London: after all, Derbyshire lies on our way.

Know that Louisa and I always have our best interests at heart.

Your beloved sister,

Caroline Bingley

* * *

><p>Netherfield,<p>

Saturday, 3 October 1812

Dear Caroline,

I write to inform you that I did receive your letter –but it was too late to serve its purpose, and I was already in Netherfield when I received it. As you asked, I did inform Darcy that you wrote me, which was no difficult task to do, for he had suggested Netherfield himself, and had accompanied me hither. Not soon after, I heard an atrocious tale as to how my beloved sisters drew me away from Hertfordshire with the most painful lies –but let me assure you that I have welcomed the report with all the concern due to it. I must also inform you that I intend to propose marriage to Jane Bennet on the morrow: I beg you to, at the very least, pray for my happiness without regarding the manner of its rendition. My regards to Hurst and Louisa.

Charles Bingley

* * *

><p>Netherfield<p>

Sunday, 4 October, 1812

Darcy,

She has accepted me! Good Lord, I can scarce believe it! I am so delirious with joy, I can hardly hold my pen straight. If you had any doubts, you may _now_ depend on the fact that I have forgiven you –wholly and completely. I shall redeem the vow you made me that exciting evening in Cambridge years ago –you will have to stand up with me, old boy, I shan't take no for an answer. Complete whatever morbid business keeps you in Town and _come_ –so we may celebrate as we once did.

Yours, &c.,

Bingley

* * *

><p>Netherfield<p>

Sunday, 4 October, 1812

Caroline,

Congratulations are in order. Perhaps you may let go of your spite but for a moment to send your good wishes to your soon-to-be sister. To save you the trouble of forming doubts and callous machinations, let me inform you that D. approves and has agreed to stand up with me.

Regards,

Charles Bingley

* * *

><p><strong>Explanation of Aunt Bingley's curious message to Darcy-<strong>

**Friday-faced: sad-looking, a dismal countenance**

**Nonesuch: perfect or excellent person, an acme of sorts**

**Foppish: dandified, extremely elegant dress and mannerisms**

**Coxcomb: vain or conceited man**

**So, what she's saying is, "Play your violin more, you idiot! And a dull or serious hunk(aka perfectperson aka fitzwilliamdarcyDUH) is no better than a rude prick." She's got spunk, I liked the idea of someone like that in the extended P&P cast. **

**Also, I'm sure Darcy's quite musical, seeing how he encourages his sister, and it's not a far leap from there to him being able to play an instrument.**

* * *

><p><strong>AND Maria Lucas does have a teensy crush on Darcy(who wouldn't!), but nothing serious though. It's that kind of idolizing, drool-over-from-a-distance kind of crush.<strong>


	10. X: Engagement

**X. Engagement**

Netherfield,

Saturday, 17 October, 1812

Henry,

You may be surprised by this letter, but I have felt for a long time that we have not engaged in proper correspondence as we ought to have done. I have spent a most engaging time in Hertfordshire so far. Charles Bingley is much engaged in affairs of the estate –not to mention completely engaged in spending as much time as is appropriate with Miss Jane Bennet, the woman engaged to marry him. I do hope the Army will not be engaging in more warfare for some more months at least for one particular reason: I mainly write to inform you to keep yourself disengaged this December, for, believe it or not, old boy, I am engaged to be married.

Darcy

P.S.: If you cannot guess at the identity of my affianced, then please burn your regimentals and consider becoming Aunt Matlock's carriage driver. You'd get blown into smithereens if you were _that_ obtuse.

* * *

><p>Matlock House,<p>

Monday, October 19, 1812

Darcy,

You sly dog, you. Stole her right under my nose, I see. Very well, I never could say nay to my wee cousin –you shall find me in my best regimentals in the pews, waiting to take her hand if she should come to her senses and declaim you at the last moment.

And as to my alternative career in case of a tendency to be blockheaded, how can _you_ be so obtuse as to think my mother would let me drive her carriage? –she would rather let the pater drive –which reminds me, when and how are you planning on conveying to _them_ this joyous news? You had better be prepared to defend thine beloved staunchly, for they will not accept her readily, that I am certain of. As their son, I can assure you that they _will_ accept her, eventually, but do not expect it to be a simple task –but of course you are aware of this already. Do not hesitate to ask my assistance, Darce, you know you will have it instantly. I shall do my very best to soften their opinion before your turn arrives, I know very well my father's irascible temper and your disinclination toward it. Speaking of exalted Fitzwilliam personages, have you told Aunt Catherine yet? I should be immensely obliged to you if you would send me a copy of your letter and her reply –a man needs his distractions, as you very well know.

Congratulations, dear fellow, and my warmest (cousinly) regards to the happy (unlucky) bride-to-be. I imagine Georgiana must be leaping for joy –you must imagine myself in a similar state, but in a more gentleman-like, soldierly manner, of course. Write me the particulars of the anticipated ceremony; I have a strong wish to hasten to Hertford at this very moment, seeing how it is lately providing such immensely suitable brides to rakes and paragons alike –in other words, Darce, find me one.

Henry Fitzwilliam

* * *

><p>Netherfield,<p>

Saturday, October 17, 1812

Dearest Georgiana,

How do you fare? I am sure you must be in a state of some suspense, considering my hasty and agitated departure. I shall never give you the opportunity to blame me for being cruel, and thus I end the suspense: prepare yourself, my dear, to congratulate your brother and to welcome a sister into our little family. Indeed, Miss Elizabeth Bennet has accepted my hand, and made me the happiest possible man on the planet. I am sure you are already dying for particulars of the ceremony, and I will try to oblige: we shall be married here in Meryton, sometime in December. I believe it is to be a double wedding, for her sister, Miss Jane Bennet, as you know, is engaged to Mr. Bingley and the ladies are quite overjoyed with the idea of marrying on the same day. To this Bingley and I have, as you can imagine, no objections at all, and I hope you do not as well. As to your role in all of this, fear not, my dear, you are to be an integral part of the celebrations, of course. I will have you fetched hither as soon as you wish; Netherfield can accommodate plenty and Bingley has already reserved a room for your use upon your arrival. I have some business to conclude in London, including the legal and, I'm sure uninteresting to you, aspects of my nuptials. My business shall detain for quite some time, I'm afraid, but you may travel to town in the interim after which, we can both return to Meryton together.

If such felicitous news does not suffice, here is another: attached to this letter, is a note from your soon-to-be sister. She insisted upon writing you herself and constantly inquires about you –you must thus be happy that she is eager to have you as her sister as much as you do.

Write me back soon, Georgiana –I can already imagine your raptures, but would rather read about them in your own inimitable hand.

Your loving, happy brother,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

* * *

><p>Dear Georgiana,<p>

I do hope I am permitted to address you thus already –Miss Darcy has a too formal ring to it, and I do wish our relationship to be as intimate as can be –I may be endowed with a near half-dozen's worth of sisters, but I welcome you as another into our family wholeheartedly. Your excellent brother insists that he does not deserve the likes of me and thus is tremendously blessed –I say nay, that it is the other way around, and I hope that you think I am in some ways at least suitable for him, for I know you hold him in much regard and it will not do to disappoint you in any manner.

We are hoping to be married, by special licence, in early December. My older sister, Jane, is engaged to Mr. Bingley, as I'm sure your dear solicitous brother must have informed you, and we two have a very strong desire to take our vows together on the very same day –I do hope you are amenable to this decision of having your brother share his happy day with another. You are welcome to Longbourn at any time in the future; as it is, I believe Mr. Bingley has already set aside a room for you in Netherfield. I am aware Mr. Darcy is all set to abandon me in pursuit of dull affairs of business in Town soon –the only silver lining to me in this deplorable prospect is the assurance of your presence upon his return.

I await your reply with much curiosity and impatience, my dear, be assured that my feelings towards sharing home and heart with you in the near future are just the same, and more.

Your sister-to-be,

Elizabeth Bennet

* * *

><p>- Square,<p>

Monday, October 19, 1812

Dear Brother,

Happy am I, indeed, at this joyous news, oh, you were right, brother! –so happy was I that I danced and twirled Mrs. Annesley round the music room, the poor dear was so stunned! She too, is very pleased with the news, for she quite agrees with my opinion of Miss Bennet, and we are both so truly happy for you, dearest brother of mine!

I am also very glad that the wedding is to be held so soon, and I am quite excited and nervous at the thought. Do not let that last word bother you, dear brother, I shall conquer that nervousness as all Darcys eventually do. I think the idea of a double wedding is quite sweet and romantic, it makes me wish that I had a loving sister to share the happiest day of my life with, or rather, that I were more of an age with you, so we could be married on the same day! But no, that would not have been practicable, for either you would have been too young or I too old for marriage!

Oh! –forgive me, brother, I am rambling! In fact, my excitement has not yet left me, and I have thousands and thousands of thoughts and words and ideas that I should like to share with you, only I cannot write quickly enough to pen them down! There! –I am rambling again, and this will not do for I have not ended with a full-stop for several sentences now! And another one! –no, allow me to organise my thoughts and recommence, brother, and forgive me the waste of precious paper so far.

Well, to begin with, the first serious point I should like to make is that I would very much like to travel with you to Hertford as soon as you wish; indeed, I cannot go there soon enough. I am aware that you do not wish for me to be overwhelmed by the sudden crush of social events thrust upon me once I do go to Meryton. I may not have socialised as much as I ought to have in the past year but I believe I have moped enough, that life is too bright and beautiful to hide from and I shall face any formidable crowd with the assurance of your and my wonderful new sister's support.

Which brings me to my next serious topic –you asked me once, if you remember Brother, in Pemberley, of my opinion of Miss Bennet. I did not answer with my complete estimation, for you were yet so uncertain of your future with her, and I could not risk influencing you in a wholly different manner with my words. Read now, dear brother, a detailed narrative of my exact thoughts and opinions of my new sister; it begins unfavourably, but ends in a manner in which you will thoroughly approve.

After our little private correspondence this spring, I was not disposed to liking the woman that had hurt you so terribly –yes, I know she was perfectly right, and that you respected her nonetheless –but I'm sure you will understand, dearest brother of mine, that my loyalty to you and your wellbeing would naturally lead me to be biased in my opinion about her.

When we arrived at Pemberley later in the summer, you welcomed us home with such warmth, such excitement that I had rarely seen in you. It lead me to wonder, and I was soon informed by you that a certain Miss Bennet was at that very moment at Lambton with friends. The reactions I perceived from the Bingleys intrigued me –Mr. Bingley seemed genuinely pleased, while Miss Bingley looked like she had ingested a particularly nasty broth. Your insistence upon going to meet them at that very moment made me suspicious –could this be the woman that had broken your heart with such bold callousness?

I must admit, at that moment, I was more nervous than angry, for her boldness was what had struck me upon your narration of those painful events, and I was sure I was not half as courageous as her! Nevertheless, I came with you, simply because you looked like a child finally about to receive his present, so happy were your looks.

When I finally met the illustrious lady, I was not prepared for what I saw. She was not as beautiful as I thought she would be(forgive me, Brother, I have long since changed my opinion), nor as direct or bold. She was very amiable indeed, and I noticed with quite a shock that she was blushing when she spoke with you! She seemed perfectly nice to me, and that is when I began to realize exactly why my brother had fallen in love with this lady.

It did not take long for my opinion thence to improve. Her visit with her aunt next morning was full of instances of good breeding that only improved my estimation of her. That horrid Miss Bingley happened to mention Mr. Wickham, but Elizabeth was all gentle kindness, she(and her aunt as well –I cannot ignore her well-thought courtesy) did her best to alleviate my distress, and her efforts only endeared her more to me. By and by, I found myself convinced of the fact that she was, in fact, the perfect woman for you.

You may be wondering about the reason for such a lengthy description of my feelings for my future sister, or perhaps you are not, my dear, clever brother. Well, I shall tell you –before you departed for Meryton last, I thought I detected a certain hesitation about you, a small amount of uncertainty when you spoke of Miss Bennet to me. I presume to know the reason for that hesitation, and thus give you this full, detailed explanation of my regard to your beloved. Do not worry for my approval, dear brother, for I approve thoroughly –you have other worries as it is; it will not do for you to bear the burden of nonexisting ones.

And on to your existing worries, I imagine our relations will not accept this news easily? I am well aware of what someone of our position is expected –nay, entitled to do, but be assured Brother, that I shall remain by your side no matter what comes to pass. If we are to be ostracized by our own relations for accepting into our home the dearest, kindest woman there is, then I care not for their pedigree. If anything, having Elizabeth in our midst will only establish to us the people worthy of our association and affection. You will find me hold on to this pronouncement steadfastly, Fitzwilliam, for I cannot bear for either of you to be brought down by malice wholly undeserved.

There, I have had enough seriousness for now, for I must celebrate! I understand completely if you are unwilling to leave your betrothed's side –goodness knows how much you have suffered for being denied her company so far! –and thus, for once, do not urge you to return to my side soon. I _do_ wish for you to come not too late, for I am looking forward to spend as much time with my future sisters as I can on equal standings of being unmarried women, and make friends with them, as it were!

Oh! –I cannot believe I have not mentioned it! –Elizabeth's letter delighted me to no end, and I find myself loving her more and more every minute! I have written her a reply, attached to this missive, and do convey to her my wishes of deepest regard, brother, for pen and paper have their limitations when it comes to expression of feelings.

Know that I will always love you, dearest brother, and that I cannot be happier, nor more proud, of such a kind, loving, discerning brother as you.

Your joyous sister,

Georgiana

P.S.: Oh dear, the news of your wonderful felicity has made me forget that of others! Please convey my heartfelt wishes of joy to Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet, brother dear.

* * *

><p>Dear Elizabeth,<p>

Oh! –yes, you _must_ call me Georgiana –anything else would be too formal and would distress me to no end! I am so glad, so very glad indeed, of this development; my brother will tell you my exact reaction to this news, for I have explained it in much detail in my letter to him!

Oh, no, you must not say that you are undeserving–I cannot think of anyone better I should like to call sister, and you may be sure that it is no mean assertion, for my brother has been at the receiving end of several matchmaking schemes, and you, I could see easily when we met, are the perfect woman for him!

Your sister, Jane seems to be a wonderful woman, and I can perfectly comprehend two beloved sisters wishing to share their day of joy. As it is, I am looking forward to meet her as well, along with the rest of your family, and thus I have entreated my brother to take me with him to Meryton as soon as possible, but since that would mean his _leaving_ Meryton for some time, I am content to wait instead of tormenting the two of you with an early separation!

For fear of being too mild in my expressions, I find myself requiring to repeat my absolute joy and contentment at your engagement to my brother. Indeed, I cannot find words enough to describe my feelings at the moment. Let it suffice, then, to say that I await your entry into our home and hearts with as much impatience as you do!

Your soon-to-be sister,

Georgiana Darcy

* * *

><p>Netherfield,<p>

Monday, October 19, 1812

Your Ladyship,

It gives me great pleasure to inform you that Miss Elizabeth Bennet has accepted my hand in marriage. We are to be married in Meryton, Hertfordshire on the 3rd of December. I beg your Ladyship and Cousin Anne to mark the day for the joyous event and grace us with your presence. Your blessings would make the already felicitous day even more joyous. I remain,

Your devoted nephew,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

* * *

><p>Rosings Park<p>

Wednesday, October 21, 1812

Fitzwilliam Darcy,

I cannot begin to comprehend how changed you are become, all due to the concentrated efforts of that merciless harpy. Where is your sense of pride, of honour? How can you sully your name with such a non-entity as the Bennet girl? I do not understand how my words that evening did not sway you –it is to that wretched Miss Bennet that I must attribute this horrific change in manners. That you, an honourable man of Fitzwilliam and Darcy blood, should disregard the basic duties of one of your position, should totally and completely ignore a solemn promise, a betrothal favoured by blood and by circumstances, by your situations in life and your temperaments –that you should blatantly ignore such an engagement, I say, and betray your own cousin in the worst possible way –I sorely regret the day you came upon this creature!

Depend on it, Darcy, you will be cut off, make no mistake. Your Uncle, the Earl, will not approve. You will be shunned, you fool, society will abhor you and speak of you as a tale of caution. Unthinking, unfeeling, bewitched fool!

What of Georgiana? Have you even considered her, selfish, vain man? You know already –I have told you of the kind of family this woman comes from –debauchery and shamelessness abound in every member, officers and elopement their only manner of rejoicing –that the woman I was thankful was spared from my parson, should wed my nephew, my own sister's son and heir, the Master of Pemberley, the highest member of a family so old and so revered, the very man decided upon two decades past to wed my own daughter –heaven forbid!

How dare you presume upon the magnanimity of a de Bourgh? Do you imagine that after years of leading us on with false hopes, Anne and I should watch you troth yourself to some wench bred in a country backwater with any amount of equanimity? Unless you break the engagement, you may depend on never seeing your dear relations' faces ever again. Do not bother writing to convince me of the two-faced snake's so-called goodness –if you do write, let it be to inform us of annulling the engagement and offering to Anne all that she rightly deserves.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh

* * *

><p>Netherfield,<p>

Friday, October 23, 1812

Sir,

I write to inform you that I am engaged to be married, to Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, Hertfordshire. I am expected in Town within a day or two, at which time I will call upon you to explain the matter in full and absolute detail. Until that moment, I beg you to not form any presumptions of any sort –Lady Catherine is acquainted with Miss Bennet and knows of my engagement, and she has received this knowledge with as much grace as one would expect from her. I ask you to form any opinions you may please after meeting with me and my affianced and judging the matter for yourself.

I remain your devoted nephew,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

P.S. Aunt Eleanor: Georgiana has also met Miss Bennet and I have her hearty approval. So has Mrs. Reynolds, and so has Henry, for that matter, thus you may apply to your beloved son for details, as I'm sure he is quite willing to supply them.

* * *

><p>Longbourn<p>

Monday, October 26, 1812

Sir,

If you were to, on a spectacular whim, visit with the writer's family at this very moment, you would see for yourself that the writer is in the best health possible, though in the most solemn spirits, which, of course, may be improved upon your completely unexpected and unyearned-for visit. The writer is in piteous humour: laughing and gay one moment, and listless and pining the next. Her dearest sister, curiously, sports the same symptoms, albeit in a milder, more repressed form. The physician insists that their affliction is of the most severe sort, and to prevent further deterioration of their delicate constitutions, to supply them with the remedies so commonly known to all at the speediest juncture.

Yes, indeed, so famous are the cures for this singular disease, that the numerous respectable families of the neighbourhood(numbering exactly four and twenty) are all so vocal in their remembrances of said cures, that the poor ladies are even worsened at being so lightly reminded of them, which, deplorably, rest currently in far-away London. One can only hope that the cures reach the fair maidens with as much alacrity as is possible, for they are most sorely missed.

Believe me, Sir, to be

Yours,

Elizabeth Bennet

* * *

><p>-Square,<p>

Tuesday, October 27, 1812

Madam,

Your description of the terrible malady which affects the two ladies has quite moved me. I am afraid I must pain you with further distressing news –your yearning for being freed of this illness must endure longer, for the cure has been delayed in Town due to unexpected developments. Believe me to be perfectly cognizant of your distress: I am afraid that I, in those brief, but unforgettable moments in your company, may have contracted the malady as well –as a matter of fact, I think I am right in supposing I am afflicted worse than yourself. The cure, as we both know, is worthless in cold, lonely London, and I join my prayers to yours in hoping for an end to this ordeal as swiftly as possible.

Your sister, however, will be offered a quick respite –I happen to know first-hand that her symptoms will be a thing of the past by the time this letter reaches your hand. You must rejoice for her, and take comfort in the fact that you shall not suffer much longer than she.

To this sad epistle I have to add but one morsel of some good news –the illustrious personage of whom we spoke has been convinced to the goodness of my latest felicity, and is eager to meet the harbinger of such unparalleled joy to my life. Perhaps we can discuss this matter in more detail, after the more urgent subjects of discussion, upon my return.

Believe me, madam, to be awaiting my reentry in Meryton society with increasing anticipation and impatience, and, more importantly, that I shall forever remain,

Yours,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

* * *

><p>Gracechurch Street,<p>

Sunday, October 25, 1812

My dear Lizzy,

I congratulate you most feelingly on your felicity, my dearest niece. Your uncle and I were certain that none but the happiest prospects and no one but the best man would be part of your future –and we were not wrong! Mr. Darcy is a true gentleman, and the kindest man I have come to know. I hope you will apologise on our behalf –on all our behalves, indeed! –for misjudging him so abominably; I have long wished to convey this to him, and there is no one better than his affianced to do so with little awkwardness. Your invitation is one I will never dream of rejecting –to visit with such close friends, in such a wonderful place would be a delight to one's heart, and I await Christmas day with much impatience.

As a small gesture of our joy and gratitude, your uncle would like to obtain wedding-day dresses for both you and Jane. I must ask you, Elizabeth Bennet, to not decline –we are set upon it, and Mr. Gardiner is writing your father this very instant to apply for his permission. Consider it bought from your mother's dowry, if you must be so punctilious. Jane and you should thus consider coming to Town for your fittings –I know you are still disinclined, but consider, Lizzy: should the brides of two men such as Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley be dressed in common Hertford clothing? The very thought!

If you need more convincing, I am not averse to informing your mother directly of this plan –dear Fanny, I know, will not hesitate in enforcing our decision. And, lastly, here is my strongest contention, the most compelling reason –your handsome betrothed shall be in London as well.

There! –if that does not make you come, Lizzy, I shall deem you cold-hearted and unfeeling, indeed!

All teasing aside, my dear, do come, for there is yet so much more I wish I could say, but I shall save it for my verbal raptures when I shall first view you with my own eyes as a wonderful man's betrothed. You have made myself and your uncle very happy, my child, and we wish you all the happiness in the world and more.

I am, dear, your very happy, and very proud,

Aunt Gardiner

* * *

><p>Longbourn<p>

Wednesday, October 28, 1812

Sir,

Your last correspondence, be assured, was not accepted with much good cheer. The recipient was indeed so distressed by it that she was taken upon by a massive swooning fit; numerous jars of smelling salts and several more entreaties to a mysterious 'Hill' did nothing to cure the poor maiden(who is completely innocent in the ways of exaggeration, by the way) of her worsened affliction.

Release from such misery, however, _did_ occur quite unexpectedly. Our maiden being a prodigious correspondent, along with your disheartening missive came for her a much more heartening one. Such a missive was this, Sir, that the maiden recovered so fast; so quickly indeed, that let alone 'Hill', Mount Oakham could not have kept the Lady down.

The missive made plain a simple truth to our young maiden. We have heard of _'if the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the hill_', and we shall take the liberty of paraphrasing it into –'If the cure comes not to the maiden, the maiden will go to the cure.'

I shall add no more: merely that I am sure it is a cold day as you read this letter, that you do not find yourself as occupied as you think you are, and that in all of London, Cheapside –particularly Gracechurch Street –is where you can find your spirit considerably warmed.

Believe me, sir, to forever be the Keeper of Your Hearth,

Elizabeth Bennet

* * *

><p><em>Extract from a long letter from Miss Adele Grantley to Miss Susan Putney, the whole of which we need not concern ourselves with—<em>

…your news about Miss Bingley did not surprise me a jot; I'm sure we all knew how indecently forward she was acting with Mr. Darcy–and all for money. Goodness! –I am thankful we did not socialise with her too often, and although she was reputed to be pretty stilish, in my opinion her clothes were only mediocre, I assure you. In fact, I hardly use the reticule she presented to me, for bags of that kind seem to be quite out of fashion now –such ridiculously bright colours as to be garish and gaudy! Oh! –can you imagine her countenance at the announcement of Mr. Darcy's engagement? I suppose one must feel sorry for her, if she hadn't been so blatantly mercenary. Well, I am not one to dwell on unpleasantness, however much deserving it seems to be. I sincerely hope Caroline Bingley's little retreat in the North will find her a nice beau –perhaps even an acceptable marriage…

* * *

><p><strong>Miss Grantley's letter give you a sense of déjà vu? Me too!<strong>

**REVIEW. REVIEW. REVIEW. You know you want to!**


	11. XI:Connubial Correspondence, or Epilogue

**XI. Connubial Correspondence, aka Epilogue**

The Study,

Darcy House

Friday, 4th December, 1812

Madam,

I write this missive with the intention of inquiring for your well-being. I trust you find everything to your liking. If you should find yourself too much lacking in company –my sister and I are unused to much light entertainment within doors –you may, of course, utilize the well-stocked library, which earned your kind approval last night, or the mews, which, sadly, did not. I'm sure you cannot blame the structure for pretending to house such dangerous animals; it was, after all, not for it to choose. As another option, you may visit the study, whereupon, on condition of the occupant's liberty, you may spend the time performing that activity which you so enthusiastically favoured last night.

I place my faith in your intelligence and hope that you have comprehended this letter exactly as the writer intended.

You will find me to be, madam,

Your utterly bereft Husband,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

* * *

><p>The Sun-Room,<p>

Darcy House,

Friday, 4th December, 1812

Sir,

Your letter found me not a little surprised, but believe me to be perfectly perceptive pertaining to its contents. While your solicitous suggestions pleased me to no end(the last one most, as you can imagine), I find myself seriously displeased at your presumptuousness in labelling me as coming from a loud, rambunctious family for me to feel deprived of such distractions in my new home. The implication has not been taken lightly, I assure you, and if you are not careful in the future, I just might redecorate the upstairs sitting-room in the fashionable shade of burnt sienna. As it is, your present misstep merits no small punishment, and you shall find me hastening to the study to discipline you appropriately in about a half hour, within which time you may rectify the status of your so-called liberty.

Believe me, Sir, to be,

Your very impassioned Wife,

Elizabeth Darcy, née Loud-mouthed-Bennet

* * *

><p>The Study,<p>

Darcy House

Friday, 4th December, 1812

Madam,

You completely misunderstood me. I only meant that coming from the full, cheerful house of your youth to such an emptier larger one could bring you some discomfort, and that I would try my best to dispel the same discomfort in any manner possible. I beg your pardon most feelingly, and hope that my well-deserved punishment will lessen some of your annoyance against me. I shall count the minutes until your arrival diligently.

Believe me madam, slave to your every whim, wish and fancy,

and, of course, your Husband,

F. D.

* * *

><p>The Sun-Room,<p>

Darcy House,

Friday, 4th December, 1812

Sir,

Well, it appears you have thrown yourself from the proverbial fat into the fire. Really, Mr. Darcy, it is quite enough to call my family loud, and now you are bringing particular notice to the fact that this house happens to be the largest(and most elegant, and beautiful, but that is not the point) I have ever resided in? Dear me, you really seem to require some urgent lessons in offering polite compliments. Being the marvellously magnanimous madam that I am, I shall be delighted to include these lessons in my long-winded process of punishing you for your wrongs.

I'm sure you will find me to be, Sir,

Your assertively alliterative Wife,

Elizabeth Darcy, née Resided-until-lately-in-a-Shed-Loud-mouthed-Bennet

* * *

><p>Madam,<p>

I find my fingers to be too moist to write much for fear of arousing your temper once more. I simply write to assure you that I await your every well-thought administration with mounting impatience.

F. D.

* * *

><p>Sir,<p>

I see you have taken to my idea with much enthusiasm. Perhaps I should refrain from coming at all, to stress on my serious displeasure?

E. D., née resided-in-a-shed-loud-mouthed-Bennet

* * *

><p>Madam,<p>

It is either the study or the mews.

F. D.

* * *

><p>Sir,<p>

I will go to the library.

E. D., née resided-in-a-shed-loud-mouthed-Bennet

* * *

><p>Madam,<p>

I have locked the library, and the key is in my inner waistcoat pocket.

F. D.

* * *

><p>My dearest, clever, darling husband of mine,<p>

I shall come to you.

Always,

Elizabeth Darcy

* * *

><p><strong>There! Done. Review at the very least now? Please?<strong>


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